Lovers at the Center of a Storm
by Ace242
Summary: Sequel to When the Wizard Chased the Rogue. Malark and Meira are back, and this time in formal wear. They will attend a Winter Solstice Masquerade ball and deal with treachery, jealousy, betrayal and bad jokes. Not in that order. With more new enemies and allies, how will the duo survive, and will they survive each other? Magic and daggers will fly in this second chapter.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: Hello and thank you for opening the sequel to "When the Wizard Chased the Rogue". If you haven't read the original story, I would highly recommend reading it first. This story takes place during the winter solstice of the same year as WtWCtR though some events take place three months prior. For continuity, the battle with the Pirate Hookhand takes place in early Summer, some events in this story take place in September/October and others take place late December. All elvish words used in this story will be translated in the final chapter, but there are tools to translate them available._

A scroll lay open on a writing desk, and its reader stood some distance away, pacing the halls of the safehouse deep in thought. Occasionally she would stop pacing, turn, walk back to the table, and stare at the parchment until she was shaking and overcome with emotion Then she would walk away and resume her pacing.

Ignorance is Bliss.

When Meira first heard that phrase she had scoffed and assumed whoever had the gall to come up with such baseless nonsense must have been the dumbest rock in all the land. To her knowledge was power, used and traded and hoarded like treasure. Meira was rich with knowledge, and she constantly gathered more, soaking it up like a sponge. No rumor escaped her web, and no fact was out of her reach; she had worked hard to make ignorance a distant memory.

How she longed for it now, as the demons of her past reared their ugly heads.

The scroll was her treasure trove. Filled with knowledge and secrets, some of which men had died to keep hidden. Yet for much of the past decade it would have been useless to her, for she had found better things to do than to go digging into her past. Yet here she stood, in a safe house in Waterdeep with a wish for a strong drink that might wipe away her revelations into a haze of ignorance.

But she could never un-see those words. And one in particular had haunted her for weeks.

The scroll held many secrets, and through breaking the codes, disarming the wards and avoiding potential pitfalls to deciphering it, Meira was able to find exactly what she had been chasing for close to a year: a full list of the current membership of the Fay'ai.

Her father sat at the head of the assassin's guild. That revelation brought her no shock, and she knew that his hold on power would be as firm and indomitable as his training. Reading his code name gave her the same anxiety she felt whenever she spotted her Fay'ai mark in the mirror, a creeping nauseous realization that she would never truly be free from his reach.

That nausea was amplified when she read her own code name…. _Vesi_. It was madness that the Fay'ai still claimed her; the rebel and the runaway was still considered one of their rank and file members despite never completing a job for them. The blackest part of her humor wondered if she owed membership fees, and if some of the killing she had done freelance would count towards a promotion.

She had searched for the scroll to see whether her escape had been permanent, to see whether that damnable mark was the only thing left tying her to her "family". It hadn't been and deep down she had always known that.

But her name staring back at her wasn't the one that haunted her. It wasn't the kick to the gut that left her reeling and set her pacing once again. Instead it was a different name.

 _Sheraesia_


	2. The More Things Change

Fear gripped the heart of our hero.

Was he in a pitched battle, using his spells to fend off a mighty dragon? No. Was he casting his ship through another winter storm, soaked to the bone and screaming himself hoarse? Also no. Was he in the grip of dark magic, using nothing but his will to escape? Yet again, no.

But all those seemed like welcome alternatives to the bossy and stern seamstress who had already poked him twice with a needle and was preparing to tighten up his inseam. As she gave him another command to "No move!" our whimpering hero glared at the man in the room who he blamed for his current circumstances. This villain was a monk who played at being oblivious to his torture while going through yet another list of courtly protocols.

"… and as you know, the honor guard will always wait to be introduced. Your position takes precedence rather than direct formal protocol. You act as a guard until you are introduced, until then, be mute."

A second voice guffawed at that and added "If you can manage to shut up! Liosin, maybe with that new outfit, we can fit him with a gag just in case." Malark's seemingly ineffective glare was then turned to a heartily chuckling wood elf in the corner. Though admittedly the fire from his look may have been doused by the beads of sweat running down the forehead as the seamstress and her needle moved higher. The currently unfazed wood elf Thamior merely sent him a cheeky wink as the monk Liosin ignored his comment and continued down the list of protocols. Malark went from glaring at Thamior to glaring at the monstrous "courtly noble liaison" outfit that was the current bane of his existence.

The new outfit in question was undoubtably gaudy. Malark was currently being fitted with new breeches of a bright blue color rapidly contrasting with his typical muted style. Yet while the breeches and the approaching needle did bother him, they were the least of his concerns as they were accompanied by an overly tight and ridiculously pompous doublet matched by a flamboyant cape and hat. Malark had initially objected that he knew how to dress formally; he had served as an ambassador for over a decade and had worn many stylish formal robes. However, he had been overruled by Liosin who had determined that "important but not distinctive" was going to be replaced by "illustrious and unforgettable". Malark concluded his monk "friend" was a blind sadist.

But Malark was never one to dwell on his current misfortune when there were friendly insults to be exchanged. "You're one to talk o' Mighty Thamior. How many times have I heard your daring escape from slavery?" Malark raised a sarcastic brow. "How many enemies will you slay on your next retelling? Ten? Twenty? Or will it break a hundred when those poor trapped guests hear it?"

"I'll add in an extra dozen for you next time I tell it then!" Thamior may have been enjoying his friend's misfortune but took his mocking in good humor.

At the last comment Liosin had finally given up trying to read through the lengthy scroll and dropped the formality. "Just be glad you haven't heard him when he's drunk. He 'heals the bloody slavers so they can stand up and take another beating'. It's quite dramatic and rather barbaric really. Try not to terrify the guests, will you?"

Thamior laughs a light reedy laugh and makes a rude gesture at Liosin as the seamstress finishes up. Malark finally gets to relax and strip off the formal clothing while Thalmior resumes the banter. "No promises Monk! Have you seen a properly distressed elven noble lady? It's priceless how flustered they get. They freeze like a startled buck and can't react or flee. Why this one time…"

Malark interrupts with a shout from behind a screen, while changing back to his normal attire "How that deity of yours stands your praying, I'll never know. It's a good thing Ilmatar is the God of Endurance with those never-ending stories of yours."

More good-natured ribbing between the three followed them out the door as they headed back to their rooms at the Elturel keep. As they pass the ballroom Malark pulls up short and stares at the preparations coming together, still somewhat baffled at the pace in which his life had picked up after his encounter with dreaded pirate of the Sword Coast.

Dozens of servants darted to and fro, finishing final arrangements for the ball planned two nights hence. Each one seemed as stressed as Malark, understandably. Everything had to be perfect for the presentation of the Guest of Honor or the Lord of Frostshear would have their heads.

Malark would be standing right beside said Guest of Honor as she accepted the acclaim. The center of attention for hundreds of elven nobles as they guess for themselves why someone of his birth and station has bothered to grace their presence.

It's frankly a scenario that has haunted his nightmares before his diplomatic service days. Thankfully during the ball he'd have clothes on (if unbearably gaudy ones). Then he would just have to receive disdain in good grace and find comfort among the few allies there to support him. Otherwise he would have to grit his teeth and bear it all: the overly formal dining, the pomp and circumstance, the overwhelming potential for danger, the dancing.

At the thought of dancing, he initially grimaced before becoming lost in thought, and suddenly he pictured a different scene in this ballroom. Something with a low hum of music but less stiff and packed and formal. He was dancing smoothly and holding onto a beautiful woman in a gown, a smile on his face and his eyes sparkling.

He could practically see the exact shade of purple….

A hand clapped on his shoulder and woke him from his daydream as Thamior had doubled back to find his friend. "What's on your mind lad? You looked to be even more distant than when you arrived."

Malark smiled back wryly "Can you believe I'm going to peacock around in this room? It's a damn amphitheater; I could raise a full thunderstorm and people in the corners would still stay dry. What is the point of this much space?" The wizard joked but his mind was still back on that dance, and his hand had darted inside his coat to trace his components pouch in a slight nervous twitch.

Thamior seemed to notice his discomfort and didn't press him, instead laughing at his bad joke and walking him the rest of the way back to his room. Though on the way back they did manage to spot the Guest of Honor, the high cleric Felosial from afar. Her golden blonde hair shining from below as she walked light as air. The Lady seemed to be being led around by handlers as much as Malark and his companions had been these past few days as the preparations were finalized. But a genuine smile graced her face as she waved down the two. Malark returned the gesture and hoped that she would be alright (those minders kept her on a brutal schedule) before making his way back to his quarters.

As Malark entered his chambers he was struck with a sense of déjà vu. The first feeling was tension; something was out of place and his highly toned instincts told him that he was not alone in his bedchamber.

But the battle mood was broken almost instantly as soon as a familiar scent hit his nostrils, he knew what his eyes would see when they returned to his bed. Malark turned slowly and savored the moment, feeling the same concentration from his daydream earlier.

His room was decorated for a high-status guest, with a large four-poster bed as the centerpiece. It was a deep brown color and decorated with translucent curtains and propped up in the center of it was a lithe half-elven woman decked out in travel gear with a pack tossed lazily to the side of the bed. He only saw the tips of her worn boots and the legs of her tight trousers, but he knew her eyes were closed, and her arms were pillowed beneath her head. It was just like before.

As he walked forward every detail was as he remembered it. Malark didn't speak a word as he took her in, her legs splayed out in the same provocative pose before she turned on her hip and opened her violet eyes to look at him directly without fear or hesitation.

"I need your help"


	3. Allies and Friends

"You want me to do what?"

"You heard me Malark. You have been requested to be the personal guard of the honorable Healer Felosial at least until her appearance at the Solstice Ball in three months."

It was an autumn day three months prior to the reunion between Malark and Meira. The town of Greenest was in the middle of its major harvest, it's second after the Blue Dragon attack that had caused devastation throughout the village.

Three men sat in Governor Nighthill's office in Greenest's Keep. The first was the respected Governor himself, patiently waiting for his highly valued wizard ally to pick his jaw up off the floor and perhaps partake in some of the wine he had been served. It was quite delicious, and his farmers had worked quite hard on the vintage. The governor was quite keen to brag on the achievements of his people.

However, that would have to wait as the Storm Mage clearly wasn't processing his new request well. "Let me get this straight…. You asked me to come here and meet with Liosin, not for Harper or Order business, but to play babysitter to one of the most popular names in the Elvish world right now? Why me? Why her? Just….. Why? And for that record why are you two involved?

Liosin sighed and decided to skip over the rest of Malark's rambling questions to tell the story instead. "You're wrong, this is Harper business in a sense. While I know you're not one of our faction, you are an ally, and a useful one (when you're not rambling like a child)."

The monk then pulled out a report from his robe and started to read it off, "Last winter, the Noble Elven Lord of the Frostshear mountains, a highly decorated war veteran and extremely influential and celebrated figure for high elves everywhere, was losing his battle to a virulent disease. This disease was associated with an over concentration of the Garic Root in his system. While some cases of this have occurred naturally, many in the Lord's court suspected poison. This was never proven."

As was typically the case when Liosin read reports, the mood in the room changed and despite the confusion he showed earlier, Malark was a professional. This was clearly not some farce or prank pulled on him by some two high ranking friendly allies, but a serious business with potential murder involved. Malark had heard the dramatized version of the Lady Felosial's revival of the Lord, but nowhere near the level of detail Liosin's trained Harper agents could provide.

"No known sufferers of Garic sickness have survived a full three-month illness. The Lord had used magic and his most decorated healers to keep it at bay but was unable to find a long-term solution. Then the Lady Felosial, previously a minor noble serving as a representative of the Mother Abbot for Eldath Goddess of Peace, came before the court claiming a message from her Goddess had led her to aid the Lord in his recovery. Within two weeks, Felosial was successful in driving back the plague and had been hailed as a new elvish hero."

"The Lady has since been elevated to the highest possible status of nobility and the Lord now acts as her Patron. Rumor is that he even has a shrine to Eldath in his private chambers (though unconfirmed). Her techniques and depth of magical talent have extended far beyond the singular illness and her travels to various hospitals have saved dozens of lives." Liosin read the final line with a wry grimace "Her potential connection to the poisoning as a means of elevating herself was investigated, but no connection was found between her and the Lord prior to her 'vision'."

Liosin rolled up the scroll with finality and then looked into Malark's eyes expectantly as he asked the next obvious question. "How did that lead to me becoming her bodyguard?"

The governor then continued his explanation "All in good time, my friend… do try the wine, won't you? That's a good chap." The governor reached into his desk and pulled out a letter written on elegant parchment with the remnants of a wax seal that Malark recognized vaguely as Elvish. "It's not the most simple and direct of circumstances but the Ball in question is taking place in Elturel as you may have heard. Because of this, protection in some form was requested from the Order of the Gauntlet. Uroath is going to be providing the muscle from the outside but as you know, Uroath just speaks for the Order, no others really hold any sort of direct rank. While the order believes all their rank are quality, they couldn't offer some nameless soldier a chance to guard the most talked about Healer of the Realm."

Malark nodded in acknowledgement; Uroath was a good man, gruff and proud. He also would stand out like a sore thumb among elvish royalty, and clearly didn't find the idea of hobnobbing with royals and their ilk appealing. The governor seemed to agree as he continued "So the decision came down to you or your party members. You were three recent inductees that already have done the badge proud. Your exploits against the Cult of Tiamat gained yourself and the Order some pride and word travels fast, especially with that song on everyone's lips." Malark groaned when he heard the word "song" and internally cursed Mataman and his guitar.

"Zuriel may have been a good choice, he's a cleric like her and would be a more than acceptable guard. But he was not able to be contacted and seems to have been sent on some sort of mission from Thor. One could only hope he comes back in one piece. As for your half-orc friend Thad….. well let's just say this operation requires at least some delicacy…. He would simply kick down the door and bellow at the top of his lungs that the party had begun upon his entrance." Malark chuckled at the recollection of his friends and did have a moment of sadness as he missed travelling with his party.

The governor continued, obviously excited about his inclusion into world events "But you were the clear choice here. Not only did you represent the Order of the Gauntlet alongside them, but you've served in court before! Your magic should keep not only Felosial safe but impress even the most hard-nosed of high elves. And finally, your elvish bloodlines and experience with their customs makes you the obvious candidate."

Malark rolled his eyes subtly at the last bit. His bloodlines were anything but pure elvish and most High Elf nobles he encountered had written him off as a bastard, though a useful one. He managed to impress and befriend a few, but he still had seen plenty of upturned noses in court. Liosin noticed the gesture though and while the dry witted monk wasn't necessarily the most sympathetic, he let it pass without comment, doubtlessly already knowing of Malark's less than stellar treatment.

"So, you need me on guard duty for one night? Keep her safe and don't piss off the high and mighty? That's no problem, it should be quite the interesting event and you know I'm happy to help."

A slight awkward silence greeted this as the Monk responded "It's not quite that simple, the retinue of the Lady is very strict about any new guard, attaché, escort or even assistant that is going to be spending any time with Felosial. They will want to vet you completely and have you ingratiated with the party. The Order wants this too, acting with them will show solidarity and high status, rather than just acting as hired 'muscle'."

Malark didn't miss the dig at his lack of imposing strength, and the look he gave Liosin promised some retort when they both weren't in front of the overly excited and positive Governor. The illustrious gentleman who was now raising his fancy parchment in the air with glee before passing it over to Malark. "Not only that but the Lady Felosial herself wants to meet and get to know you! She has requested personally that you join her company immediately in order to properly bond before the ball!"

The wizard couldn't help but smile at the Governor Nighthill's excitement; clearly the Governor was seeing not the arduous task ahead but only the honor and prestige it was bringing to all parties involved. He was a good man and deserved some positive news after rebuilding his town back to what it used to be before the Cult and their Blue Dragon sacked it. While he needed to go over the gritty details, he could do that out of the earshot of the man who just thought he was doing him a great favor.

"I gladly accept, sir. Liosin and I will make sure I'm ready and we'll meet up with the Lady immediately."

The Monk and the Wizard took their leave of the Governor and walked through the keep into the monk's makeshift office, past two inconspicuous guards who Malark recognized as Harper agents.

"So, give it to me straight Monk, how much of a pain in the ass is this going to be?"

Liosin sighed and raised an eyebrow at Malark but didn't hesitate to answer the question. "It will be difficult, as Elvish nobles always are. There's whispers I don't like surrounding this event and what's worse they seem to be so mixed as to be complete nonsense. It's likely someone will try to interfere with the ball and I've heard the words elvish rebels, poison, assassins, magical attacks, and all manner of other rumors that make my life difficult. And now yours."

"Thanks for that." Malark walked away from the desk in which the two gathered and looked out the window of the keep, out towards a village he had seen nearly up in flames. "I wish you had found a few of the others though. If it's as bad as you make it sound, I could use the backup. I get that you couldn't find Zuriel, but surely Thad could have played some role. Not to mention the three of my friends you have under your banner."

Liosin shook his head again. "The nobles wouldn't stand for Thad to be anywhere near them, charming as you and I find him. Daesenriel sends her regards… well she said "don't die" which seemed quite affectionate for her. But she's working another mission right now, and that one "actually pays" her. Selenite is like Zuriel, untraceable after she disappeared into the wilds. And Mataman….. do you really want Mataman there?"

"Absolutely not, on that we agree. He would either bring them to tears with his music or somehow end the night with both of us in shackles about to be executed. Either way it would draw way too much attention and it seems we're going to be getting enough of that as it is."

"Agreed. By the way, he heard about your latest exploits…" A strange foreboding feeling took Malark but he shook it off.

"Why do you sound like you're about to tell me someone died? I suppose I'm not surprised my adventures in Daggerford were the subject of a Harper report. Your spies are everywhere, and I suppose it was a battle of some note, considering how infamous Hookhand was."

"Well…. He didn't really give a damn about the pirate. He was more interested in the fact that you seem attached to some half-elf wench."

Now the feeling was back and amplified to a full-blown shiver down his spine. "Why don't you just tell me what you're dancing around. What did that bard fool do?"

"…. He wrote a song about you."

Silence hung in the air and a crow took the opportune moment to caw loudly outside the window, emphasizing the discomfort of the two men as they pictured their overly mischievous ally singing about the Wizard's love life. "Should I ask…"

"He says he'll be calling it 'The Stalker and the One that got Away'….." The crow added another opportune noise, followed by a stiff gust of wind as Malark felt his life flash before his eyes. Decades of building up a stalwart and respected reputation, only for a spectacularly talented asshole to destroy it with what was sure to be a hit song. Despite not worshipping any specific deity, Malark sent out as many prayers for mercy as he could possibly conceive. Hoping beyond hope that Mataman would at least change the title.

As the awkwardness passed, the two men resumed their planning and discussed what Malark would need to know before attending the ball. The wizard would join his charge's pilgrimage through the Sword Coast area and protect her alongside her attendants for three months until the Solstice Ball. After the ball, Malark would handle Felosial's travel back to her homeland and then return to Elturel to report and earn some much-needed rest. It seemed like a large arduous process, and more than once Malark was tempted to find Emerald in the stable and ride like the wind for Daggerford to purchase his boat. Surely Liosin couldn't find him and give him annoying requests if he never stopped sailing….

But in the end, Malark wrapped up the meeting by agreeing to all the terms, resigning himself to more service to some perceived "greater good". As he wrapped up his written orders with a sigh, Liosin noticed his lack of enthusiasm and attempted to cheer him up.

"Look I know this was sprung up at you out of nowhere, and you probably have three places you'd rather be." (A room at an inn and purple hair immediately sprung to mind, but no that wasn't an option now) Malark nodded along. "But at least I can promise you that you'll have company to make it a bit better."

At Malark's curious raised eyebrow, Liosin exited the room smiling and calling for a guard. Two minutes later there was a knock on the door and Malark's face split with a grin as a towering elf with yellow skin and a light green beard walked into the office, carrying a similar looking scroll.

"Thamior? How in blazes did they drag you into this mess? How the hell are you? Do you know the Lady? What have you been up to since Baldur's Gate?"

The wood elf let out a reedy laugh that lingered like a breeze, interrupting Malark's stream of queries. "Questions, questions questions, boy. You never do change eh? I hear life's going to be interesting for the both of us so don't worry, you'll get the answer to all of them. But from what I hear, Liosin's got us setting off on the road come sunrise! We got more important things to do till then."

Clapping the wizard on the shoulder amicably, the wood elf cleric Thamior turned them both to the window to watch the sunset dip over the horizon. "We have one more night of freedom left before we start this job. You know what that means? Celebrating like it's our last" Malark answered with a smile, enjoying the view.

"Tomorrow…. Begins a brand-new adventure!"


	4. Sheraesia and Vesi

"In two days, Healer Felosial will be assassinated."

"That's more of a fact than a favor but go on."

Malark faced away from the woman who broke into his room and walks towards the pitcher of water that the keep's servants leave on hand for him. Part of him has never felt more alive than he has upon seeing her for the first time in months. Another loud part of him resents that fact and is feeling spite and pettiness from being left with only a letter for explanation. He has spent all day dealing with handlers and seamstresses and now he gets confirmation of his worst suspicions. It's exhausting.

"You don't seem very surprised by the threat. Here I thought the Healer's personal arm candy 'bodyguard' would show a bit more concern." Meira knew she was potentially venturing into hostile territory, but her defenses were up. She wanted to seem cool and collected but there was a lot riding on this reunion going well. She knew antagonizing him wasn't one of her best decisions but that blasé façade of his had to go. Meira knew the man facing away from her felt _something_ besides this feigned disinterest, and the sooner they got past this the better.

"Your information is good, but it's not unique. The Harpers let me know about the assassination months ago." Ok, maybe a week, but who's counting. Malark poured himself a goblet of water and considered doing the same for her, but she had already broken into his room. Surely, she could have helped herself to the amenities as well. "Some ancient sect of half-elf assassins I assume you're familiar with?"

Meira pursed her lips and dove right into the heart of the matter. "The Fay-ai are sending someone, yes. And I think I know who it is…. You have to watch out for her."

Malark turned and Meira could see the stress and anger in his eyes that she had been expecting. "Why? Is it _you_?"

A stinging slap followed as Meira quickly stood up to confront him, it rocked Malark's face back, but he still kept up the pretense of being unaffected. "That's not much of a way to ask for a favor…."

The two stood face to face with Malark not meeting her eyes, simply standing looking in the direction he was slapped before taking a slow drink of water. Meira was breathing heavy and feeling a surge of emotions, forgetting her training and not thinking about what came next. Because how _dare_ he…. He knew… and then the fight went out of her because he didn't know much, did he? He only knew what she had told him, and that was laughably sparse.

Malark couldn't resist the desire to look into her eyes any longer, and when he turned his gaze he knew what he would see there. But he could only guess how it would affect him. He looked and saw the pain on her face; pain that he had put there deliberately. The air went out of his sails and he let go of the clenched stress and hurt and abandonment and spite and malice. They were useless and he knew it.

"But it is the way to treat someone when he's being a bastard." He hoped that a half-apology would do until they could figure out the rest of this mess they had made.

Meira felt a surge of relief and took the olive branch when she heard it; she extended her own. "Maybe it's not the best way to deliver the apology you've been working on for a few days." Months, but again, who's counting?

With a sigh, Malark pulled up a chair and gestured for her to sit back down on the bed. "Look, we clearly need to talk and that's important, but you came in with something on your mind. So, let's handle business first and this" he said gesturing between the two of them "as soon as we are certain no one will die in two days."

It wasn't what she wanted, and his words brought a little bit of the pain back before she shook her head and realized he had a point. They were short on time and she still needed that favor.

"Let me start from the beginning. I assume you remember the scroll that we took back from Hookhand?"

"Yep, I tend to remember reasons I almost got blown to pieces…. Sorry, go on."

But rather than dissuade her, the return of his bantering tone brought a smile to her face and she pushed on. "Without going into details, through that scroll I learned the name of a Fay'ai operative. I did my research to confirm this, but I believe I know her identity."

"Code name: Sheraesia." And just like that, Meira's mind wasn't in a room with her "former lover" she was in a grassy clearing standing hidden on a tree branch. In that moment, Meira wasn't herself, she was Vesi.

Vesi had a knife in her hand, and her target was in sight. There were no defenses around, no witnesses either, save the scattering of beautiful butterflies that always frequented that grove.

Vesi preferred a distance kill but it was her first and Father had instructed close quarters to be sure the deed was done. Her knife throw was problematic anyway, the target was holding a book that could get in the way. But inside Vesi's mind she knew Meira was fighting against her training, regaining control with each passing second, because Meira _knew_ this girl, and it didn't make any sense. Father wouldn't send her to kill an innocent, Father wouldn't send her to kill her friend….would he? Vesi's grip tightened on the handle of her knife and she crouched down for the approach, knowing each second counted.

But the young half-elf girl in the clearing saved her own life by starting to sing. The song was simple, and her voice wasn't beautiful, but it was a simple ditty from childhood about love. One that the two had sung together multiple times, chasing butterflies in this very grove. It was from a time before the Ritual, before the Training, when she was just Meira and Vesi had no power over her.

Meira dropped the knife then and started to run. She didn't look back.

"She was someone I knew….. a friend from my childhood." Meira was speaking even though her mind was still in the moment, and from under a fog of memories she felt Malark's concerned gaze and a steadying hand on her shoulder. "I don't know why, she shouldn't be here. She shouldn't be trained but…. I did my research."

"She's fast, she's smart." Evaded traps and ambushes that should have killed her. "She's clean enough that she hasn't left much of a trail. And she's…. been busy." Killed dozens… but why?

"I need to stop her, and I need your help. You must get me into the ball, I can anticipate her movements and prevent her from getting close to a kill shot. This isn't just some normal job, she can't kill that noble-blooded healer. It's suicide."

Suddenly a knock sounded on the door, and by instinct Malark moved between Meira and the intruder. In his surprise he had already assumed a defensives stance and ice magic was waiting in his left hand for his command.

"Malark, are you there? Can I come in?" A bright feminine voice sounded out from behind the door.


	5. Reunion Interrupted

Meira was a hurricane of emotions as the knock echoed throughout Malark's chambers. She was still dealing with the fear, confusion and trauma of her memories, and now she had to deal with an instant flash of jealousy as she knew who the voice must belong to. If that jealousy wasn't bad enough, it was mixed in with a surge of exasperated affection as Malark showed intense protectiveness of her. Until he heard the woman's voice, he was ready to freeze any intruder upon their time together and that caused a lightheaded, stomach swooping feeling that she didn't care to identify.

Instead as he let go of the magic and stood up with a much calmer demeanor, she smacked him on the shoulders teasingly. "You plan to vaporize everyone that knocks on your door? Your host must really enjoy having you."

Malark raised an eyebrow at her in a gesture she had grown to recognize, and she knew he was glad that this part of their dynamic hadn't changed. "Well I tend to react that way when the word assassin is mentioned. I figured it's safer than just painting a target on my back and hoping for the best." His quips were delivered as he walked towards the door and Meira realized she was about to meet a woman she desperately wanted to avoid.

As Malark opened the door (after peering through a spyhole to confirm it really was a welcome guest), a blonde blur shot through the opening and enveloped him in a tight hug with her arms around his neck. "Thank Eldath they finished for the day! If I had to learn the details of one more noble guest, my brain may have melted."

Before Meira realized what she was doing, she had already risen and walked halfway towards the pair. She stopped herself with a sudden realization she had no idea what she intended to do. Tear the interfering _blonde_ off him in a bout of jealous pique? Was that who she had become? Meira realized that her emotions were in control to a degree she detested and took a deep breath. As she released, she put into place the defensive, disinterested façade that had served her well over the years.

It didn't matter if Malark was seeing the healer celebrity, she reasoned. She and the storm mage had made no contact since she had left him months ago. From what Meira had heard from rumors the wizard had been inseparable from the healer for months now as part of her retinue. They whispered that the two had gotten closer and some of her retainers had even departed, leaving the two with minimal attendants until they had reached the city of Elturel. Meira guessed the pair had been given virtually no time to themselves since.

The realization that she was asking her ex-lover for a favor in order to protect the life of his current suitor galled her into a full stop. Meira clicked her mask into place and wiped all emotion from her face as she had been trained. Then she approached the potential victim and her guard so she could intercept her target and complete her mission.

Malark was about to be subjected through Felosial's recounting of her handler's latest actions when he cleared his throat to draw her attention to the third person in the room. Felosial followed his gaze and blushed when she realized that her initial private actions had been subject to an audience. "Fel, this is my friend, she has information about the assassin that we were told about. Her name is M-"

"Syleth Drocoseir, it's a pleasure to meet you Your Highness." Meira bowed formally without extending her hands and noted that Malark had moved away from Felosial and look startled upon her interruption. She saw his own emotional control war on his face before he walked past her towards the goblet of water, pouring two glasses.

"Well it's a pleasure to meet you Syleth, but please I'm no 'Highness.'" Meira had to resist rolling her eyes as the woman before her was still blushing prettily and was now _giggling_ into her hand. Meira was in control now and continued as Malark walked back and handed them both a glass of water. Apparently, he remembered to be a host when the guest knocked on the door rather than picking the lock and lying in wait.

"My network of information has given me a code name for the intended knife. The assassin is likely to strike during the festivities and seems to be aware that the job has been made public. That indicates either confidence, recklessness or the presence of a distraction. All three could be dangerous."

Malark seemed to strike upon her business-like tone and listened carefully as he stood between the two. He fiddled with a ring on his finger, seemingly deep in thought; Meira guessed he was working on countermeasures. Felosial seemed more resigned to the information and began pacing the room with a stressed and worried air. Meira almost felt bad, when the elven maid clearly came here to escape stress; however, _her_ _highness_ would have to deal with reality eventually and they were short on time.

Malark spoke up to reassure his charge "Both your guards and the host have been well informed of the eventuality of an assassin. They have eyes on each entryway, and the Order of the Gauntlet is patrolling the surrounding area. With myself…. Syleth…. And the rest of our allies keeping watch on you during the event, we are certain you won't come to any harm."

Felosial turned and smiled at Malark, she seemed reassured but not completely convinced. Knowing the skill and training of the intended assassin, Meira knew the healer had a right to be wary. But her fears were seemingly put at bay for now as she turned to Meira with a more genuine smile on her face.

"Thank you Syleth, I appreciate your assistance, any friend of Malark's is a friend of mine." That sunny smile was turned back towards the wizard and Meira's mask or indifference almost cracked in annoyance. "Much like that Thamior fellow, what a laugh. He comes from a long-established clan of wood-elves, but you wouldn't know it to hear him speak, and especially in his sermons. Speaking of which, I'm not familiar with the clan of Dracoseir. Is your family from far away?"

Meira brushed off the question in order to avoid Malark's curious looks and evade backstory. "You wouldn't recognize the clan name unless we were royalty, your highness. Most half-blood clans are a bit more discreet." As Meira finished her evasion, she noticed Felosial's glass slip slightly as if startled, and she attempted to make a vague apology at her presumption. Meira looked at Felosial's fluster with a bit of confusion as she had seen the reaction before but hadn't expected it.

Felosial seemed to chatter on with a subject change about the ball's preparations and Meira continued to ponder what she had seen. It was a reaction she was quite familiar with and typical of a full-blooded elf when encountering someone with what they would consider an impure bloodline. Meira had adventured far and wide and had constantly encountered the superiority of those elves who put clan and blood above all else but had also seen those who seemed happily mingled with those around them.

What was stranger was that Malark was much prouder of his mixed heritage than Meira was. Even in their short time together, Meira had heard a story or two of his human mother, who despite being a servant woman, had a fierce tongue and biting wit. There was virtually no chance that Felosial wasn't aware of Malark's heritage and Meira was left to ponder why she wasn't used to mixed race companions.

The rogue's ponderings were cut short when Malark seized upon one of Felosial's point about the Solstice ball. "Actually, Fel speaking of the Solstice…" Meira once again avoided bristling at the nickname "Mei…my friend here is hoping to attend as well. She was hoping that you could make that happen so she could provide another layer of security during the proceedings."

Again, Meira saw the hesitation but this time it seemed as if Felosial was judging her and not her heritage. She received a once over from the healer before Felosial's eyes darted to Malark's for reassurance. Meira noticed a slight nod of reassurance before Felosial responded with a cordial smile. "Of course, we can make that happen. You shall be my guest and join Malark among my retinue, perhaps as one of my ladies? Would that be the best vantage point for you? Either way we would need you to have the appropriate attire."

"Actually, your highness, it would be best if I wasn't part of the ladies in waiting" (for many reasons, primarily Meira's sanity) "it would likely be best if I was able to be free to mingle and move around. Assessing threats from a distance will give us a different perspective and with my speed I should be able to interfere as needed." Meira looked back to her travel pack and made a realization with a wince. "Though now that you mention attire…. I may need to borrow a ballgown."

"Of course! I'm sure we'll make you look wonderful my friend! Our seamstress Isobel is a lady of immense talent and she works very quickly." Malark coughed uncomfortably and seemed to wince. Meira looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Felosial with pursed lips. "Oh, hush Malark, just because you don't like her…"

"Dislike her? I'm terrified of the woman. She almost castrated me today!" He could hear a bit of the Meira he knew coming back out when she snorted in an undignified manner while Felosial covered her giggles in her hands. He decided to keep them chuckling while they could "I can handle the damned formal wear if it wasn't so restrictive. What's so wrong with the ambassador's robes I ask you? And they're talking about making me carry around a bloody staff, like I'm about to start planting flags in the ground."

The ladies' laughter apparently had carried down the hall because two men entered the room, neither knocking or announcing their presence outside of a fake affronted gasp. "Malark my boy! What unseemly things are you doing in here? Paying women to think you're funny? We both know you couldn't tell a joke to save your ass."

An instinctive part of Meira wanted to revert to her training and slam her guard shut but it had become abundantly clear that she was among friends. Despite her strong feelings about some in the room, it felt good to be among people comfortable enough to be foolish and self-depreciating. She immediately liked the tall wood-elf that had walked in and grabbed their attention, though she reserved judgement for the silent human who seemed to be analyzing her with some semblance of recognition.

"Well…. Sylther, this rudely obnoxious flora is Thamior, and the human is Liosin who will try to recruit someone as talented as you as soon as he possibly can." Malark still seemed to trip over his words now that he had to name her falsely but Meira could tell by his face that he was feeling the same lightheartedness in having his friends close by. Meira remembered his bragging near the port of Daggerford and wondered who in this room he wanted to be in the sailing crew he would undoubtedly (eventually) assemble.

Without much preamble, the conversation moved away from the work she needed to discuss and towards Malark's trauma from earlier that day. Meira could tell that Thamior was full of nonsense but cared deeply about those he chose to surround himself with; he seemed to be propping up Malark and eyed her warily and Meira tended to wonder how much about her that Malark had shared with those closest to him. Liosin was quieter and less affable but possessed a biting wit that would sneak its way in at the expense of the other males; Meira saw he never directed a less than respectful word at the Lady and seemed to be constantly looking back at the door, as if waiting for something.

Though she resented herself for it, the rogue even managed to enjoy some of Felosial's comments. Despite never allowing herself to be insulting, Felosial still joined the banter and ended up drawing Meira into the conversation with pointed questions and compliments. She never strayed close to any of the others though, sticking by Malark's side. She noticed the distance and noted that warming up to the sunny cleric did not mean that Meira would drop her _nickname_ anytime soon. Meira tried not to watch Malark obviously but couldn't help but find out that he and Liosin shared a habit of glancing towards the hall, as if expecting an intruder at any moment.

It didn't take long to find out why, as two flustered looking sun elves came barging into the proceedings (as well as two can barge while adhering to the strict rules of propriety). "My lady, you must away immediately. You have been scheduled to meet with the High Court in the morning and we must go now and prepare your nightly rituals." Felosial looked around the room apologetically as the two attendants busied themselves around her, separating her from her friends and babbling in Elvish. Meira saw Malark place a reassuring hand on Felosial's shoulder but was distracted by her knee-jerk jealousy when she saw the two ladies glare daggers at Malark before literally batting his hand off and ushering Felosial out the door, staying at least an arm's length away from the healer the entire time. Malark was returning their glares with much more venom than one usually shows at two small elderly ladies but didn't verbally protest either party's treatment.

Felosial leaned back in for the briefest of moments before being led away to make a request "Liosin, can you please take Syleth to the seamstress and make sure they know that she should be outfitted with garments suitable for my _personal guest_ and don't let them tell you otherwise." Liosin acknowledged the gesture with a half bow and a nod that Felosial barely saw as she departed; Meira hazarded a guess that the man had the most chance of getting things done without starting some sort of fight or uproar.

After a brief pause the monk inclined his head towards the door, showing that they should depart as well. Though this was what she wanted, Meira wasn't thrilled about spending so much time with a bunch of strangers, one of whom who would "try to recruit her" whatever that meant. She followed Liosin out the door but stared into Malark's eyes as she left, trying to communicate telepathically that she had more to say and they should meet up as soon as possible. The rogue felt another surge of emotions as Malark seemed to understand her effortlessly and nodded with a small smile as she left.

As Meira followed Liosin out the door, she couldn't help but overhear another reedy laugh from Thamior followed by the sentence "Laddie, you are well and truly fucked."


	6. Peeling back the Veneer

The next two days passed in a blur for both Malark and Meira. For Malark, it seemed that he could not get more than a minute alone with Meira to clear the air; he needed more information on the potential dangers they were facing but despite that, they barely saw each other. In fact, he couldn't get a minute alone with _any_ of his friends. The elvish retinue that he had butted heads with since the beginning seemed determine to keep him at least somewhat isolated. Part of it was his own doing, as he had tasked himself with preparations and research that kept him in the library for hours. However, the rest of the near misses and cut-short conversations seemed to be a deliberate attempt at retaliation by the more petty and vengeful elves.

Meira on the other hand was constantly around strangers and couldn't seem to find a moment to herself to breathe, much less one to meet with Malark. First, she was dragged before Isobel the seamstress where she found herself in a similar position to Malark. Luckily, she was able to rely on her training to be much more still and the seamstress worked at an incredible speed. All the while, Liosin the human monk sat behind the screen, reading off the ball's itinerary to his new ally. Meira knew that Malark wouldn't have let her go alone with anyone he did not trust, but she couldn't get a read on the monk. She wanted to know what organization he recruited for; Meira was also faced with the strange yet undeniable impulse to better than the monk at his own game.

Yet despite the lack of conversation and Meira mentally compiling a myriad of tactics to get information out of the monk, all she required was patience. Liosin led her straight from the seamstress to a small room that was packed with notes and papers that seemed to be his temporary office. After gesturing her to sit, Liosin got right to the point rather than beating around the bush.

"My people were aware of your adventures in Daggerford with my friend Malark. I may not know your real name or origin, but if that one trusts you, I'm willing to extend a little faith." Without waiting for a response or registering the flash of surprise on her face, Liosin handed Meira a stack of leaflet notes that contained outlines and diagrams. "Here are some of the scenarios we are prepared for. We have cover from invisibility, shapeshifting, and other forms of magical deception; this will work in combination with the physical deterrents of guards on the exterior and the interior. There shouldn't be any large holes."

"The kitchens." Meira knew her work and was rifling through the plans immediately and scanning them with speed. Liosin raised an eyebrow and gestured for her to continue. "While poison is unlikely as the assassin has only rarely used it, it may be a sufficient distraction. If she's been given specific instructions by the client, it may be something that causes one of the bigger public statements. Not to mention, people often overlook the staff as potential suspects."

After a brief flash of superiority for Meira, Liosin hand her another outline with his preparations for most of the scenarios she had mentioned. While she couldn't help feeling like she hadn't come out on top in this exchange, she also seemed to have passed a sort of test in the monk's eyes. They spent the next few hours sharing tidbits of information and Liosin went over the formalities. While Meira started to trust the Harper leader more, she didn't know him well enough to ask the personal questions she was dying to know about their mutual wizard friend. Whenever he was listed in the plans as the Honor Guard or Escort for Felosial, Meira wanted to ask what their true relationship was.

However, that question was not answered, nor was it easier to ask the next day as she somehow found herself accompanying Felosial with her handlers. The healer and the rogue were going through a walkthrough with the organizers of the ball. As they paced around the ballroom, they were led to where the Lady would make her entrance and be announced, followed by the formalities of the Lord's presentation and speech. The whole gathering had a sense of elegance and purpose while also seeming to Meira to be overly-stuffy and formal. But while the monotony wore on, Malark studied Felosial.

As much as she would prefer to show nothing but disdain for _her highness_ , she had to admire Felosial for her poise and her patience. The elven healer took to her role with grace and while she was clearly uncomfortable in the spotlight, she showed those around her respect without appearing weak or smugly superior. It made Meira feel as though she could talk to the woman, even though she disliked the blonde. What was strange was that her despite the constant presence of her retinue and handlers, Felosial didn't seem to have a close relationship with any of the high elves in court. They all kept their distance from the healer both metaphorically and literally as Meira noted that none came within arm's length of Felosial for any purpose.

Much to Meira's surprise (and abject horror) Felosial sent away the handlers in order to speak with her privately. When they departed, Meira expected to see some of the tension leave Felosial's shoulder, but instead she had a desperate look in her eye and Meira knew this wasn't going to be an easy conversation.

"Tell me something Syleth, because I have been thinking about it constantly and I truly don't understand. Why me?" Meira was startled, expecting the topic change to be more wizard related, "Why would the assassin come for me instead of the Lord? If they tried for him once…. I just don't get it."

Suddenly, despite the negative feelings she had for the blonde, Meira felt a stab of empathy. That paranoid fear of a knife around the corner was something she knew all too well. But unfortunately, the answers to the questions Felosial was asking were never easy, nor did they give peace of mind.

"It's about sending a message. You're pretty, you're charitable, you're sympathetic, all of which make you a popular figure among the common folk. You're a celebrity, worshipping the Goddess of Peace and fall under the highest protection of your Lord. If you die, not only does he look weak, but the world sees him look weak. There will be an uproar and he will be rumored incompetent; if they just struck him down again, he would seem a martyr. There is a game at play here and you sit right in the middle of it."

Meira shocked the lady by spitting to the side in disgust. "In other words, it's all elvish politics. Betrayals, power and nonsense that gets innocent people killed." Meira looked into Felosial's eyes and instead of seeing baseless paranoia, she saw resolved caution. While there may never be friendship between the two of them, Meira decided to help distract the healer and ask about her trip to Elturel. Predictably, the blonde brightened immediately.

"It was wonderful! I've never seen so much of the countryside. And the people were always happy to see us, especially those that needed our help. When I was an acolyte, I could only dream of helping this many people. Malark was worried that I would overwork myself, but I couldn't help it… I just wanted to heal everyone in those hospitals." Felosial spoke in an energetic yet hushed tone. It was clear that she was raised with those who disregarded her opinions as she seemed apologetic at even expressing herself. Meira found herself leaning less towards outright disdain with each sentence.

"Malark is…. A good man, I'm sure that he was only looking out for your health." Meira didn't know where that came from, and she simultaneously burned with curiosity and begged a change of subject.

"I know, he even took his time to help out some of them as well. Though between the two of us, he's an absolute novice at healing. He treats everything like it's a war injury, which I suppose is unsurprising but led to a bit of overtreating some patients. He would wrap full splints around people that had minor injuries!" She seemed to delight in sharing this with Meira, as if it was the first time she was indulging in gossip. The blonde's eyes seemed to light up as she changed the subject. "But how do you know him? I mean he seemed to have a lot of adventures and he would talk about his friends, but I don't think he's mentioned you yet."

Meira pushed down a stab of hurt at the casual admission, it didn't seem like Felosial was trying to be cruel. Plus, she had given her pseudonym, so the logic behind not being mentioned was inescapable. "We met more recently than some of his more… grandiose adventures. He helped me take back something that was mine from a pirate."

"Ooh! A pirate! Did he have a parrot?"

"Um… no, though he did have a hook for a hand, he-"

"What was his name?"

"…Hookhand"

"Oh… that's not very original."

"Apparently it was a famous name that he took because…. I don't know! Blame the one that came up with his names!" Meira was growing more and more frustrated with the conversation but she found herself almost to the point of laughing as well. It was a strange dynamic between the pair. "Anyway, we separated a few months ago, from what I heard he came to Greenest and then met up with you next!"

"Oh, yes that's right. We met up on the road to Elturel when I was visiting villages and travelling with the caravan the Lord graciously provided. Though I suppose they didn't stick around for much of it."

"Why was that?" Meira was finally getting to the part of the conversation that could sate her curiosity.

For the first time Felosial seemed sheepish and opaque, as if she was telling a secret. Meira felt her suspicions growing and a felt a lead weight growing in her stomach. "Well Malark tended to… scare them off. Apparently, he wasn't too keen on the kinds of things they considered 'improper behavior around the lady'" She said the last bit with an overly haughty accent, clearly trying to make Meira laugh but the rogue was too busy pondering the possibilities and just gestured for her to continue.

"Anyway, they decided to meet us at the city rather than continue to quarrel. Though if I'm being honest, I think they had threatened Malark with some sort of retaliation if he continued to act that way and Malark ignored them. But they weren't exactly…. Up to a confrontation with him." Felosial smiled with affection. "You know him, he wasn't intimidated by what they were saying and responded to their challenges without blinking. They left when they realized it was a losing battle."

"I don't understand" Meira squeezed out slowly with pronounced control. "What was it he was doing that was so inappropriate?" Felosial blushed and the lead in Meira's stomach grew heavier.

"Well the first thing was during mealtimes, we were all sitting together… mostly. It was Malark's first night there and he was sitting next to me and talking to me like I was… normal." Meira noted that it must have been a novelty compared to her other treatments. "And he got me talking, like I am now I suppose. And I was rambling and eating and rambling (it wasn't very ladylike) and I ended up choking on a bite of stew. He reached over and patted my back until I was alright. They did _not_ like that very much."

Meira endured a moment of silence as she attempted not to strangle the blonde in front of her. "That doesn't seem like something so controversial. Surely there must be more."

Felosial sighed and looked around at the production going on in the ballroom. The next night she would be involved in an ascension she had not asked for, and continue to be treated like some sort of… "You see how they act around me? Ever since I healed my Lord, ever since I had my vision, they treat me like art or gems. Valuable, pretty to look at, but not to be touched."

The conversation was clearly making the healer uncomfortable and her posture was defensive as she rubbed her arms protectively. "I was born the third daughter of a minor elven noble. I was raised by servants and trained to be a healer and a potential wife. My value was clear to me even at that age. When I became an acolyte, it was known that I would leave the monastery of Eldath as soon as my fiancé was arranged. The other sisters were not much for interpersonal relations. They emphasized the sacred purity of connection to Eldath being their only one."

"I went from a potential bargaining chip, to a potential healer, to some sort of saint. Throughout it I needed to remain pure, and unblemished. The only ones that have treated me like a person are the Mother Superior, Eldath and Malark."

Meira almost wanted to interrupt but she was spellbound as all the admissions came flowing forward. "He has the gall to actually touch me, he talks to me without wanting something, and he taught me how to ride a horse. For those things, he was threatened by those who barely know me. It's nonsense like you said and I don't understand it, but my life has become so strange I don't know what's normal and what isn't."

Meira was going to say something (she was torn between something comforting and something witty) but she was saved the retort by the bellowing voice of Thamior as he approached the two ladies in the corner.

"Ahhh if it isn't the angel herself!" Felosial still seemed a bit distressed after their talk but covered it up with a blush and a giggle at Thamior's dramatics. Meira noted that there was thankfully one elf not treating her like the rest of them. "You've been summoned by the wicked witch of scheduling, the fearsome…. I forget what her name was. You know the one? Pouty eyes, always looks like you broke wind in her general direction?

"Yes, I'm aware, but Thamior she's not that bad. And her name is_"

"No time, dear, no time! She'll likely skewer me with a quill if you wait a second longer. I'm also to escort our new little lady over here back to Liosin, apparently there's more intel to be had."

Both healer and the rogue seemed to be amusedly exasperated at Thamior's behavior, but as Felosial smiled, waved and departed Meira once again found herself alone with one of Malark's allies. At least this one was easier to read.

"How did they convince you to come to this?" Meira asked without preamble. "You seem to hate it even more than Malark does."

"Aye, it's bloody spectacle without substance. It's a beautifully baked pie with no filling. It's just awful… But my lad is being drug through a dog and pony show and none of his other mates are here to have his back. My blood hasn't done a damn thing for me since I was sold off to slavery, but at least here they have to pretend to listen to me."

Thamior grins like a madman then, out of nowhere and Meira has a sudden instinct to flee. "But don't change the subject lassie! I've known that bucko for a while now, and he's not one to fancy boring women. So, since the buck started making moon eyes at ya, it's time for good ol' Thamior to find out everything about ya!" At that the wood elf started leading her down the hall and preparing rapid-fire questions for her.

As they made their way down the hall, Meira debated jumping out a window. Though the problem with such a reckless escape is that two annoying healers would be jabbering questions away while they handled her recovery.

Still, if Thamior asked one more question about Malark. One of them was going out the window.


	7. The Second Calm

The all-important day had arrived, and the first half passed in much the same manner as the previous two. Malark was kept isolated in meetings with Uroath and his contingent and Meira was sent to her final fitting by the seamstress who had somehow created a full-length gown in an impossible amount of time. The gown was black in color, molded well with her frame, and displayed her features with grace touched with a bit of daring. It was strapless, and layered with skirts, though Meira had insisted on some freedom of movement. She wore elbow length satin black gloves as well as a black lace shawl around her. Isobel had also forced her into a pair of heels despite her protests, and Meira knew that she might have to do some "alterations" if a fight broke out. Despite the shoes being deadly enough, Meira was proud that she had snuck some weapons into the ensemble.

As the countdown to the ball reached its final hour Meira was torn between seething with annoyance at the impracticality of working in a ballgown, and the pure pleasure of being dressed up in something beautiful and different. The gown was formal, clearly expensive, and restrictive, meaning she would never think to purchase for herself, but nevertheless she had pictured herself in one since her youth. Whatever part of her was envious of the nobility, now could see herself as their equal if not their better, due to her prolific history and accomplishments. It was strangely satisfying to be here, though that thought was a distraction. She had work to do.

But distractions were unavoidable, and as the sun set, she turned down a hallway towards the ballroom. Meira saw it empty save for one man that she hadn't spent any length of time with since she was ushered from his room.

In the moment before he looked at her, sound seemed to fade, and she got to savor every moment of his reaction. It started with the initial light in his eyes as he recognized her and relief that they would finally get to talk. Then his eyes got wider and he slowly moved his gaze up and down her body, not seeming to notice that he was walking towards her. As he closed in, he was clearly trying to think of something to say but all that came out was a low humming sound of appreciation that sent a tingle down her spine. Malark then seemed to zone out for a minute as he looked down at the gorgeous sight before him.

Rather than a bitingly witty remark, Meira softly reached up and closed his mouth the rest of the way before patting him on the cheek with her satin gloved hand. She remarked softly "I'm glad you approve."

Meira approved as well. Despite his initial protests about formal attire, the outfit was well fitted and stylish. Though he would have looked much better in something that he was comfortable with (or less clothes, as Meira knew intimately), Meira found herself enjoying the change and pictured herself slowly dancing with him in both of their ridiculous outfits. In a world where they were lord and lady, and where dancing could be had without assassins; the vision was sweet but short lived.

Despite the overwhelming time pressure, the two allowed themselves a moment of silence to enjoy their reunion, Malark had yet to say anything but he was blushing at the comment and his eyes were glowing with amusement. Meira found herself feeling safe and reassured despite the danger they were about to face. Their little bubble of normalcy couldn't last though and Meira sighed as she felt it slip away upon hearing footsteps down the hall.

"We haven't been able to go over the plan with each other, but I know Liosin has been keeping you informed. You'll be monitoring her highness from up close and have already prepared some initial wards. Accompanying you will be her two Elvish bodyguards and Thamior will be joining the Lord's delegation. Meanwhile I-

"You've been tasked with monitoring the crowd as a roving agent, it should be the best use of your talents. You'll alert me with a whistle if you see anyone that you recognize, and we will converge on her location after ensuring Felosial and the Lord's safety. Liosin assured me that 'Syleth' knew what she was doing and would identify any disguised agents before things got out of hand…."

"…Right, I never did get to explain about that. But we've been through this before, I had you call me M before we….. I figured you'd see the similarity and understand my reasons." Meira had known she should have dealt with this sooner, but the entire situation was a mess and they needed to work seamlessly together. Neither could have doubt in each other.

"Look…. I know that you need to keep yourself safe, and we don't lead the same lives when it comes to our identities. When you said your "name" I felt confused, betrayed and a healthy dose of whiplash." Malark tried to look into her eyes while saying this but he couldn't quite stand the way she might react. "You popped up out of nowhere after disappearing with another name and another request. I want to say that I know you and that you aren't using me, but it was like the rug was pulled out from under me."

He sighed "We've barely spoken since and I know there isn't time, but I need you to be clear with me. Do you trust me, and should I trust you?"

It was fair. Painful but fair, that he had to resort to asking that.

She looked into his eyes and there was no guard there, he was being as open with her as possible. Meira knew what she wanted to ask him and knew he would answer her honestly without hesitation. But she was still scared enough of the consequences to open her mouth about Felosial.

"When I-" she knew this was going to be hard. "When I left you, it was because of this. The scroll, my family it's all led me to this night. I know I'm leaving things out, but it doesn't change my intention. And I know there hasn't been enough time for you to feel secure that you _really_ know me, but somehow you do! I trust you, and I have absolutely no doubt that you're going to go out there and protect everyone you possibly can." Meira felt another surge of affection as Malark seemed to brush aside the compliments but smiled at her recounting.

She grabbed ahold of his doublet with both hands, stepped close and looked him in the eyes. "I'm going out there despite whatever the hell happens because I need to keep Felosial alive. The assassin can't kill her, there would be devastating consequences. And someone I might eventually give a damn about despite our obvious differences would be dead. Sheraesia can't touch you either…. I just can't let her do that. I have your back, no tricks, no schemes, no bullshit, no question."

Malark stood there in silence for a moment but seemed content with her promises. He knew he was stepping out into a storm, one that could strike from any side. But at least he knew what was important to someone he cared about. He let go of his suspicions and doubts as much as possible and added onto her promises. "You missed someone. You don't get hurt either." Meira started to speak up. "It's non-negotiable. Someone touches you tonight and they're going to find out how lightning tastes."

Musical notes sounded from down the hall, and Meira knew their time was about to be interrupted; she bemoaned the fact that she was given no time to enjoy the pleasurable shiver that his growling possessiveness sent down her spine. There was nothing to do now but to step into the lion's den. She put on her work face and nodded to Malark before turning to make her way into the ballroom before him. Before she was able to, she felt him grab her hand as she turned away.

"Stay safe… please." And a squeeze of reassurance was all she got before he too left to assume his position at the top of the stairs.

As two guards opened the door to let inside Syleth Dracoseir, she entered regally but without pomp, hoping to slip in and observe as much as possible before anyone engaged her in trivial conversation. Her first view of the ballroom was something out of a children's story; the room shone with golden baubles, expensive decorations, and was brightly lit by an enormous crystal chandelier in the center of the room. Meira grasped immediately that the room was meant to reflect and honor the visage of the guest of honor tonight and she felt a little stab of envy for Felosial. As she made her way around the mezzanine and down the stairs towards the dance floor, she fell into her work façade but not before longing for a certain storm mage on her arm and a more casual night planned.

Meira had entered the room to a gathering of Elvish nobles expecting pomp, circumstance, dignity and importance and was absurdly disappointed. For all the talk of centuries of tradition and magical prowess, this group of dignitaries were just like any others gathered to display power and ostentatious wealth. Despite their pure-blooded backgrounds and their nobility, Meira drifted from conversation to conversation overhearing petty gossip, unimportant bickering, and plays for power. Though Meira was grateful that no mystical entertainment was being presented it did seem strange that such magical bloodlines would simply supply talented human minstrels to the occasion.

Meira brushed past the dissolution quickly though, hiding a snort of amusement behind her gloves before slipping back into the counter-assassin mindset and going over the plans she had laid out with Liosin. The guards were in position and they seemed ready and wary; the staff too, seemed to be aware of the danger, as they served quickly and seemed to dart out of the room as hastily as possible.

The most notable man in the room was of course, the Elven Lord of Frostshear. He stood up on the mezzanine, flanked by brightly armored guards and well-dressed attendants. Despite his position of power, he held a small smile on his face that seemed genuine. Meira knew that despite Felosial being the guest of honor, he would be the main beneficiary from the evening. The ball would decry all doubt that he could recover from the deadly Garic Root. As the minstrels would tell it, the Elven Lord of Frostshear would rise like a phoenix, taking the Lady with him and resuming his rightful place among the powerful.

As Meira looked up, she did acknowledge that appeared as powerful as he attended. The mezzanine itself was covered in large, wall length windows, decorated with beautiful stained-glass images. All guests would have to look up at the Lord, flanked by beauty and power and acknowledge that he had beaten Death.

After fifteen minutes had passed, the dancing had become less of a formal group affair and the tune had changed to accommodate couples as they twirled around the floor with grace and ease. While Meira noted that some of the dancing wedded couples seemed interested only in appearances, others looked at each other in a way that Meira envied.

As if summoned by her wish, Meira spotted Malark speaking with Liosin next to the staircase. The two seemed to be deep in discussion before clasping hands and wishing each other luck. Liosin headed up the stairs before disappearing out of the room. Meira knew that the Monk was stationed outside the event despite his role in organizing the defenses on the interior, and she hoped that all his hard work would pay off.

As she approached and Malark caught sight of her, Meira saw the nervousness fade from his eyes as he took her appearance in once more. Though the professional part of her wanted a less distractible partner, the feminine side was pleased she could sway his eyes so easily. She cut short his admiration by steering them back to business "It looks like Liosin is getting to his position, when is Her Highness joining us?"

Malark rolled his eyes at the nickname but was pleased to not the lack of malice in Meira's tone. "She'll be making her entrance from the staircase on the other side of the dance floor. So now I just need to make my way through this fracas without drawing too much attention to myself." He gestured towards the dance floor, and which was crowded with twirling couples as he spoke.

Meira was not a flawless woman by any means, but she knew had to seize an opportunity. This one had been so casually presented to her seemed too good to be true, and she was too quick to let it pass by. She stepped closer to the wizard with a smile. "Well then, it looks like you could use a partner. A good pair of hands to protect you from all those stuff elvish married couples on the dance floor."

It took Malark a second to realize what she was referring to, but once he grasped it the wizard smiled with fondness for his partner. For a second his mind slipped back to the daydreams he had, and though the scenario was much different than he envisioned, Malark was going to enjoy this half-victory. He extended his hand with a goofy flourish "My lady, would you do me the honor of a dance?"

The violet haired rogue could have brought her partner to heel with a scathingly witty comment about his less than serious offer of something she clearly wanted. Instead though, she just enjoyed the moment and took his hand in hers with a soft smile as he lead her to the dance floor. Malark pulled her close as they approached, with his left hand in hers and his right tightly around her waist as he started to lead.

Their steps were simple, and while Malark was coordinated, he was no virtuoso on this stage. As he moved with his partner he knew that with some training and her current skills she could fly along the floor with the greatest of ease while he could be content with not tripping over his feet. Yet they both seemed content with their simple closeness and soft flow of the dance as they rotated on the edge of the circle of couples.

As they approached the position where he would wait for Felosial, Malark saw a flash of something unhappy in his partner's eyes. Rather than break apart as planned, Malark made the decision to pull her closer (drawing a little pleased gasp from Meira) and continue to lead her on another full rotation of the dance floor. They stepped and moved with more ease as they attuned to each other's movements and both felt the joy of being close to each other and feeling normal for the first time in a while. As always with the pair, the feeling couldn't last and as they approached Malark's position a second time, Meira gently broke his grasp and held his hands for a beat with a silent smile, before turning and heading back to work.

Meira walked to the nearest wait staff and grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray. She raised it to her mouth and while she craved a drink, she only completed the motion for appearances. Instead of focusing on work, she was lost in thought. Though their singular dance lasted only a brief while, the violet-eyed rogue let herself imagine briefly a night where they could dance like this for hours. Though it was formal and stuffy and neither of them belonged with this group, there was something magical about the pomp and circumstance of the night that Meira wished they could enjoy together for any length of time. Meira's musings were cut short by the voice of a crier, making an important announcement and Meira set down her full glass as he began.

"My Lords and Ladies, thank you for gathering here today. May I present, loyal servant to the Goddess Eldath, and savior of our Lord himself….. Lady Felosial!"


	8. The Muted Thunder

Felosial slowly descended the stairs in time with the music and while Meira knew she should be constantly assessing the room for threats, she let her gaze linger for a few seconds on the vision of a healer standing above her. The Lady was wearing a pure white was trimmed with gold lining that traced her figure and matched the shining gold of a headdress she wore for the occasion. The gown was cut strapless and she wore a white jacket embroidered to resemble two large white wings. She looked every bit the angel the rumors had painted her, and she floated down the staircase with a regal air.

Meira got ahold of herself and resumed checking for any sudden movements towards the entrance. With all eyes on Felosial, it was an ideally distracting moment for an assassin to strike, especially when those contracts involve sending a message. After a few moments of assessment, she felt her gaze pull back to the scene in front of her and saw Malark step up and offer his arm halfway down the stairs, to escort her the rest of the way across the ballroom to where the Lord waited to greet his Guest of Honor.

Meira couldn't help the stab of jealousy that coursed through her, as intense as it was prior to her getting to know Felosial. The two were dressed to be the center of attention, linked and bonded to show their nobility and poise. Meira knew that the story here showed two heroes, returning to receive their just rewards. They deserved each other through the sacrifices they had given for the world around them. It was nonsense of course, but believable nonsense. And she knew that in Malark's case, the sacrifice had been quite real.

As the pair reached the top of the dance floor, they were greeted at the edge of the mezzanine by the Lord of Frostshear, who waited for them to turn towards the awaiting crowd as they had rehearsed before greeting the assembled nobles. Meira noted with some frustration that Malark seemed very natural in his role as escort to Felosial, though the healer in question seemed to need to draw some comfort from him. Though this had to be her first time in front of so many of her newly established "peers", Felosial seemed the picture of dignity, and her nerves were only shown by the tight grip on her escort's arms.

As the Lord rose to started to give his address (A speech of power, pride, nobility and recovering from adversity to triumph), Meira heard a slight chuckle to her right and made eye contact with a handsome gentleman wearing stately robes of a high-level priest, but without any signs of a deity or denomination. He had dark brown hair cut short and while his face seemed unblemished, Meira could see several burn scars over his neck that protruded from the hem of his robes. The man stood with confidence despite appearing to be one of the only humans in a room full of elvish bloodlines. Meira saw a flash of gold on his fingers as the priest gestured towards Malark and began conversation.

"You could always tell that man hated these formal ceremonies. Every time we would hold a ritual, Malark would stand with this rigid posture and vacant look on his face. With others I would think they were just remembering the words, but memorization was never his problem. It was boredom. It seemed like he just had much more time for the practical application rather than the ceremony."

Meira was confused by his sudden frankness but was curious about this side of Malark. As she looked back, she thought the monk had a point, as Malark had a formal look of attention on his face but his eyes showed absolutely no patience or interest in the proceedings. The room seemed secure enough, so Meira nodded and let the man continue. He had a certain charm about him that drew her ears and his words seemed dripped with honey. "I saw you two talking earlier, it's good that he has friends here. You and that loud wood-elf are good for him, keeping him away from the claws of the rest of the crowd. Though you seem to put him more at ease."

The priest cast a roguish smile her way that seemed a contrast to the robes and the mannerisms; it was more something she would find in a tavern at the end of a bawdy joke. If she wasn't a trained professional and in the middle of a dangerous situation, Meira may have blushed at the implication. As the Lord carried on with introductions (including full descriptions of titles that seemed to last minutes at a time), she resumed scanning the ballroom. But still curious she pressed the priest "I don't believe he mentioned studying spell work at a monastery. I suppose you knew him when he was training?"

"Ahhh, he wouldn't have mentioned me, we had a small falling out between friends. Nothing that can't be worked past but it's good to see him well, even if it's a stuffy party." As the Lord wound down his address, harping on the greatness of those around him and the heights that his house will strive for in the future the lord finally returned his attention to the two awaiting heroes, showering them with fervent (and quite sincere) gratitude before ending his speech on a crescendo. The pair of Felosial and Malark turned back to the Lord of Frostshear to bow formally, then around once again to repeat the gesture to the polite applause of the nobles. The priest extended his hand to the half-elf rogue "It was good to meet you Meira, I'm sure I'll be seeing you and Malark later tonight. Perhaps we'll manage to bury the hatchet."

Meira shook politely and turned back to the proceedings. As the music picked up, Meira remembered that Felosial was directed to join on the dancefloor. With Malark as her escort, the two joined the twirling pairs in the center and moved through the most fitting steps. Though Malark seemed uncomfortable and a bit rigid, he managed to avoid injuring his partner. Meira felt a small smile grace her face as she compared the look in Malark's eyes during their dance and the one he was wearing now. She was beginning to relax before a realization sent a big shock ran through her system.

The rogue hadn't introduced herself to the priest, why would he know her name? Nor would she ever use her real name in such a situation; in fact, Meira never got a name in return or asked any sort of direct questions. Moreover, she was looking for suspicious activity in a room full of people and let herself completely ignore a clear outsider who seemed to have plenty of knowledge and wicked charisma. As she broke whatever spell, charm or state she was in she looked around to spot the man and assess him as a threat, but she didn't find anything, it was if he had simply vanished into the crowd.

Meira's expression as she tried to recover from her mistake was so noticeable that Thamior approached her as surreptitiously as possible. "What is it lass? Spot the killer yet?"

Knowing the stakes, Meira came clean immediately, "Not her, no but I'm not sure who I just talked to. Some priest with grey robes who knew me even though we were never introduced. I'm a bit worried that he hit me with some sort of spell, I didn't get his name or assess him properly."

Thamior popped his head above the crowd but couldn't get a look at anyone that matched the description even from his height. He looked back to Meira and he seemed so distressed that he patted her on the shoulder and tried to salvage he situation. "I'm sure it's not that bad, he didn't seem to cause any trouble yet and I'll keep a sharp eye out for any more troublesome priests eh?"

She knew Thamior was lying for her sake, though after the wood elf had said the word "priest" he seemed to pause in thought as if trying to place a particularly elusive memory. Thamior saluted her in jest, then set off at a brisk pace, seemingly scanning the crowd to correct her error. As Thamior melted away to do his job, Meira felt inspired by her guilt to invest herself completely in her role and for a moment Vesi was let out.

Vesi moved through the room like a shadow, sliding outside of the peripheries of the elvish guests and monitoring the situation with eagle eyes. Since, the ballroom held no imminent dangers near the dance floor, Vesi made her way up to the mezzanine, glancing outside the full-length windows to spot any disturbances outside or through the air. From the height of the mezzanine she scanned the floor below with purpose, now having two targets on her mind. Though both escaped her keen eyes, she managed to spot a slight disturbance, as a server seemed to send a signal up above. At the gesture, the rogue moved to investigate but was too late.

As the entire ball watched in shock, five figures crashed through the skylight, in a protected and controlled fall, seemingly guided by magic. They landed on the corner of the mezzanine within range of the rogue's speed but unfortunately Vesi couldn't get to them quickly through the throngs of guests. The center figure was a tall female sun elf, she stood with a retinue of four armed male elves, all who stood ready to lash out at anyone within reach.

"Frostshear, you pompous ass; hear me and quiver in fear. Call me Presmoira! I represent all those sun elves who toil under your heel and dine the scraps you have left after you fill your gut. All those who try to hide and survive as you wage your political wars. You should have died from the Garic root the gods forced into your tainted blood. It's time to correct the mistake that little doll made by saving your pathetic life."

Presmoira reached into her cloak and seemed to grab a weapon before a beam of ice shot towards her, intercepted on instinct by one of her guards who was knocked to the floor. Vesi lost control as Meira's eyes immediately went from targeting the new threat to finding her sailor as he stood between the intruder and his charge, hoping to get in some offence before Presmoira could enact her vengeance

Rather than a crossbow or other weapon, Presmoira was reaching for a scroll. After the guard intercepted Malark's frost ray, the elven rebel backed to the corner before casting the scroll towards the staircase. As Presmoira let loose the scroll, it unfurled to open a portal; the portal resembled a shining oval with a sheet of translucent glass surrounded by a glowing blue energy. On the other side, shadows moved towards the surface and as they passed through, dozens of elvish rebels appeared to come through to invade the party.

The rebels were lightly armed, and some were carrying cheaply made weapons, but Presmoira and her immediate party appeared well armed and determined to cause bloodshed. Half seemed to head downstairs to raid the nobles while the others approached the tight shield wall of the Lord of Frostshear's guards.

Another two beams of ice pelted towards the main party, disrupting any showboating the rebels had planned. Instead Presmoira seemed to lose her temper in seconds shouting towards her forces. "Kill them all! The Lord, the bitch healer, her pet caster. They all die tonight!"


	9. The Second Storm

The chaos was immediate and overwhelming. Panicking nobles headed out any door they could find, and the rebels mostly ignored their presence so they can get to the more important targets. On one end of the mezzanine, the Lord of Frostshear was getting pushed back towards a wall, surrounded by a phalanx of guards, who were joined by some of the Order of the Gauntlet and various door guards. He was quite protected. Malark did the same with Felosial, placing her behind him and protecting her, mirrored on both sides by two of her armed guards. The surge of bodies prevented Meira from getting from her end of the mezzanine directly to the action, so she made the quick decision to join the rest of her allies on the dance floor.

As soon as the commotion started Meira knew that she couldn't stay in her gorgeous costume. Rather than pushing through the frightened guests, she kicked off her stilettoes before vaulting over the platform and gracefully landing without harm. Meira tossed aside her black wrap (It was unlikely she could use it for strangulation) and peeled off her gloves before realizing that her maneuver had torn the lower skirts of her gown.

Without any hesitation, despite her attachment to the garment, Meira she reached down and tore her inner petticoats off her gown, leaving her clad only in an outer skirt that she also ripped. It was now shortened and hung down to her thighs, giving her freedom of movement. The new wardrobe revealed a black garter on both thighs, each equipped with an enchanted dagger. Meira drew her weapons with a small smile and began to assess the enemies' locations before charging. Noting that most of the enemies were engaged with the guards, and some were contending with Malark's magic, Meira decided to take a flanking route to work her specialties.

Meira picked up speed and darted around the room like a bee, hamstringing any rebel warriors that she moved past. With her speed and the element of surprise in the chaos, she passed practically unnoticed by everyone except her victims. As the rogue moved, she continued to scan the room for the first sign of the assassin she was destined to face and noticed that despite her speed and stealth, Malark was tracking her progress, and some of her victims fell prey to a particularly firm blast of ice to prevent any counterattacks. With Felosial tucked behind him and warding off some of the high-profile targets, Malark fired off spell after spell, preventing too many of the rebels from gathering close to the Lord or himself, and assisting the guards however he could. As much as he may deny it in the retellings, Meira was his primary concern. She was barefoot, moving without armor, and in danger of falling to a stray blade. Malark trusted his instincts to eliminate some threats without drawing too much attention to her.

Once again, Malark found himself grateful to Thamior, who was herding guests out the back exit while taking on one or two charging rebels himself. The wizard showed his gratitude with a well-placed thunder spell that shattered their formation and a rushed telepathic message to his friend. "Protect the guests, we have Felosial covered! Get Uroath if you can!" Thamior acknowledged this with a wave and started casting a powerful warding spell to cover the retreat. The wizard could hear the shouted prayer to Ilmater and knew his friend would be alright.

Malark wasn't sure about the lady behind him however, who was clearly horrified by her first battle. While she had followed her initial instructions to the letter, now that she had cast her spells, she seemed unwilling to do more than hide behind Malark and her two elven guards. While it wasn't exactly a useful position, it was better than being a detriment and fleeing in the chaos. Malark couldn't take his eyes off the battle, but he tried to shout encouragement over his shoulder.

Felosial didn't seem to register his words until she heard Thamior's shouted prayer; after this she decided to connect with Eldath. Malark heard the blonde go through a series of prayers and reach out towards the Goddess of Peace. The wizard would take any help he could get as another dozen rebels came through their portal; the guards were severely outnumbered in this fiasco. Felosial saw blood being spewed and started tapping into her healing potential. Stabbed guards regained their footing, and a cut that appeared on Malark's arm from a well thrown spear was healed instantly.

Malark noted that Meira had stopped charging and was hiding behind cover, out of sight of the guards and appeared to be watching intently. In what he would consider later to be an act of utmost generosity, the half-elf turned his attention away from the object of his affections and towards to the formation of rebels pushing closer and closer towards the phalanx of the Lord of Frostshear's guards. An empowered Shatter spell blasted the attacker's formation with thunder and gave the guards a chance to launch a deadly counterattack.

For a second, Malark caught the eyes of the Lord himself, who was holding up well under the attack despite his health only just returning. He had been calling out encouragement and orders to his men before the boom of thunder had overpowered his calls. As the elvish noble looked over to find the source of his aid, he found the half-elf outcast and seemed to show genuine gratitude and acknowledgement in a salute, a far cry from the empty platitudes of his speech.

The wizard couldn't afford a lengthy distraction though, and he returned to supporting his two allies in pushing back any attackers coming their way. The rebels on the ground floor seemed excessively wary, separated behind the cover of pillars or overturned tables to avoid the brunt of Malarks' magic. The sporadic elf would break cover to launch a spear or charge towards a weak point, only to find two well trained and pissed off guards to bury a spear in their guts. Malark pushed back three charging elves, forcing them back to their cover, but instinctively turned his attention back to the violet haired temptress who had suddenly picked up speed.

Meira had spotted her quarry, a darting shadow emerging from the servant's quarters and eliminating guards on the upper levels. Acting on instinct and imbedded training, Meira made her way to intercept instantly. The target was fast and the disruptive battle was all around her, but she was skilled enough to avoid obstacles. As soon as Meira made her way to the stairs her path was blocked by the two warring elven factions, and spells were flying to and fro. Her training kicked in as Meira suddenly changed directions, making her way back towards Felosial, knowing her to be the target. A small cloaked figure leaped from the railing of the mezzanine in the same direction and Meira managed to spin on her heel and close the distance to within five feet, tossing one of her daggers to intercept the assassin's path.

After the toss, Meira felt a flash of guilt and doubt. What if her throw was true? This girl she was attacking was someone she once gave up her family to save. How had she gotten dragged into this life? Why was she here? As the dagger flew from her hand, Meira realized she wanted to save her old childhood friend. Despite the rumors, despite the news of what she had done, Meira just couldn't reconcile that with the image of the girl that she remembered.

The cloaked figure managed to sense the oncoming path of the projectile dagger and rear back at the last second. The blade nicked only her cloak, but the motion had dislodged the wetgirl's hood. As she followed up her throw and moved in close Meira saw her counterpart's disguise fall back and a splay of hair with colored tips followed it. A strand of hair was cut by the knife, and the blue tips of the assassin's hair started to glow. Meira froze on the spot and looked into her eyes…..

But not the eyes she was expecting.

Eyes very similar to her own in fact. Purple eyes stared straight into blue eyes. For a second in Meira's mind the battle field went quiet and the room went dark, and the only two people in the room…

Were Meira and her sister.


	10. The Stormborn

In the darkness of her mind, Meira remembered growing up with a bright hue of nostalgia. Before her Fay'ai indoctrination, she had felt normal and carefree and loved. Her family was kind and caring, and though her father was a bit distant he always took the time to answer her questions and took care of the family. Meira's mother was much closer to her, a bright woman who loved her children with a passion and spent as much time as possible with her two girls. But when both of her parents needed to work or travel, it was Meira's job to take care of little Melinae.

Melinae was a quieter child, who stuck by Meira's side for many years, becoming closer to Meira than children of her own age. That all changed, when Meira's training had begun, and she grew distant from her sister in the hopes that Melinae wouldn't see how she changed. She never wanted her sister to follow in her footsteps.

Since Meira's escape, thoughts about her sister's fate had kept her up at night, but she knew that it was impossible to return. Meira had once written her mother in a vague hope of reconciling with her past, but never received a response. Now it was clear that her escape didn't end her father's ambition for the perfect heir, just delayed it.

Melinae…. Sheraesia, took the time to grin at Meira wickedly, clearly not shocked by this revelation, before pulling up her hood and retreating into the chaos to prep for another strike. Meira moved to follow her but was interrupted by an ambitious rebel that faced the full force of the rogue's frustrated fury for getting in her way.

Malark had seen a bit of the confrontation, enough to be confused by it, but was still picking out the ranged fighters before they gathered enough attackers for a charge. Between the two guards and himself, Malark knew they wouldn't be able to hold off a full force assault without some major magic that could have some splash damage.

The wizard looked to the mezzanine to see that Thamior was simultaneously fighting off two guards and moving the last batch of unguarded nobles out in the hallway. The ballroom was emptied of noncombatants, leaving just the Lord and three of his advisors surrounded by guards and the rebel forces attempting to push through to the Healer or the Lord. Yet as he stood in the center of the dancefloor under the skylight, Malark's eye caught one figure who wasn't fleeing the room but walking calmly out towards one of the less travelled servant's entrances.

When the former ambassador spotted those flowing grey robes, his eyes remained riveted without conscious realization. But when the figure turned and the two spellcasters made eye contact, Malark's eyes widened and his blood started to boil. Reason, strategy and sense flew out the window and as the man lifted his hand in a mocking salute, Malark's eyes were drawn to his polished golden ring on his finger. Though the distance made it impossible to tell, Malark knew the three lightning bolt design etched onto the band. He knew it instinctively, he saw it in his nightmares; now, Malark saw it on the ring of a man who had betrayed him. The priest had promised Malark greatness, but more importantly, he had taken a distraught, shipwrecked sailor and told him he was family.

Any affection Malark once had for the priest had burned to ash; Malark wasn't family, he was a marked sacrificial beast to an angry god.

As the High Priest of the Lord of the Tempest walked out the door, grinning and offering an insulting wink towards his former pupil, Malark forgot about the battle. Lightning sparked through his body, and crystals of ice formed on his breath. Then the door shut and an elvish rebel blocked Malark's gaze.

Malark's eyes went white, one word was bellowed in rage. _**TALOS!**_

Malark os Mys Shari lived to his name. The air exploded with the fury of a Stormborn.

Meira had lost track of her quarry when her instincts screamed danger. Her eyes burned as she turned towards the dance floor, and the bright flash of light and energy was so quick that sound was a distant second. When her eyes recovered, she registered the sounds she had missed. The first was a large boom of thunder and the second the shattering of glass. The skylight had burst, and lightning had struck the same spot her lover had been standing just a moment before.

Yet as she looked upon him now, Meira barely recognized Malark. The half-elf wizard was standing with arms to his side, and his head tilted back towards the broken skylight. He had divested himself of his gloves, and his formal attire was in shambles. His arms stood bare as the sleeves had been ripped off by the bolt of energy, and that same energy sparked and pulsed up and down his arms. To her eyes, the energy sparked like lightning and seemed to form runes she couldn't read. Malark's doublet had blown open showing a black undershirt and hanging on his shoulders like a vest. With each inhale of breath, the wizard's chest heaved, and with each exhale ice formed and shards fell to his feet. Where his boots stood, the floor had been cracked and jagged patterns of burns scattered the ground around him.

Then he struck.

Two of the rebels had been hiding behind a pillar in the ballroom, Malark's first supercharged bolt of lightning blew a three-foot oval through the marble. Both opponents were down simultaneously, before they could blink; one was killed upon impact and only let out the ghost of a gasp and the other dodged just enough to lose his right arm and a chunk of his shoulder. Meira may have had unpleasant memories of the scream the wounded rebel unleashed had she not already been focusing on another rebel that was fleeing in terror with a weapon drawn.

As Meira glanced around the room, she saw that the room's occupants, allies and enemies alike seemed to be intimidated by that abject display of power. Malark had thrown lightning before but the previous bolts had compared that one like arrows to a ballista. Felosial's two guards were begging her to retreat further from Malark, but they wouldn't touch or drag her back. The healer resisted, attempting to speak to Malark, but energy surrounding the Stormborn was enough to push her back a few paces. When the swirl of energy seemed to reach it's peak, Malark let out another bellowing challenge to the sky and started shooting out spells with abandon, hurling balls of ice, rays of cold, bolts of lightning and claps of thunder in quick succession.

Meira's training screamed at her to find cover and strike during the chaos with quick decisive attacks. Knowing that her sister would follow the training to the letter, Meira chose to ignore it completely and follow the other instincts insisting that get to Malark and save him from himself. Meira wasn't the only one with those thoughts and she could hear Felosial screaming at Malark to get his attention. The wizard appeared to be in a trance and the blonde's screams did nothing to change that.

Violet hair whipped rapidly as Meira darted quickly towards the center, hoping to find some way of restoring Malark to sense. As she looked around the rogue could see the devastation he was causing; at least a dozen rebels had fallen to lightning and ice in the minute since the initial bolt struck. Rays of energy were flying with abandon and a storm seemed to rage from overhead, fueling the tempest on the ground. Whether by fortune or intent, none of Malark's strikes had hit his allies, though some of the Lord's guards had come to close and found their shields had become solid blocks of ice.

As Meira looked up she saw the rebel leader staring at her wizard, frozen in fear. Her two elvish hostages were crouched at her feet whimpering in terror and turning away from what could be a blast of death. Time seemed to slow as Malark raised a hand to deliver another strike, one that seemed to be charged enough to cause significant collateral damage. Hums of energy could be felt from both the enchanted ring on his hand and the burnt silver ring, dangling around his neck sporting the three lightning bolts of Talos.

But in the moment before he could strike, the Stormborn felt a fearless hand seize him upon the chin and tug his eyes down towards a very familiar violet stare. Her eyes were concerned but they were also commanding; they expected better of him than wanton violence that could lead to civilian casualties. The rage didn't leave immediately, but the strike was not unleashed. Instead Malark's hand lowered gradually, and felt another hand met his chest and attempt to soothe his pounding heart.

As his breathing slowed, the white of Malark's eyes did fade, and once again it was the sarcastic, passionate and dedicated wizard looking into the violet eyes and not the merciless Stormborn. As Malark came down from the high of his power surge, he finally understood what the Lords of the Tempest had wanted from him. Whatever _that man_ had triggered in him tonight was something that any cult would want to get ahold of. His blood seemed to hold the key to a catalyst, one that Talos would love to lay claim to.

But he had control now, and all that was thanks to the woman who had captivated him from the first second. She didn't know how grateful he was for her in that moment, and he would have to change that once the two of them had escaped this mess. "Thanks for that. I don't know what you did but…. Thank you. I hope I didn't…. that none of my spells…."

Meira plastered on a forced smirk that was dripping with barely hidden relief, but her voice was steady as she told the wizard "You would never strike me, they didn't even come close." With her hand still on his chin, Meira directed his gaze to a safe Felosial, and could feel even more relief flow through his body.

"Those two are the real threat! All remaining forces kill them before it's too late!" The shout came from Presmoira, her desperation was palpable as her forces attempted to rally.

It was already too late, and even as the remaining assailants gathered to attack the rogue and the wizard, they didn't find two lovers lost in each other's eyes but two partners standing back to back ready to meet them.

Hours later, it would startle Malark and Meira how well they moved together. Each time Meira struck and disarmed her opponent, she would find him blasted back by a spell. Each time a rebel managed to dodge the chill of Malark's attacks, they were met with a knife in the leg. Meira's stolen weapons were turned into projectiles and found their mark and Malark blasted back any who got too close with thunder. One rebel got close enough to Meira's shoulder but found himself twitching on the floor as a furious blast of lightning punished his audacity.

It was a dance, perhaps not the one meant for this ballroom but one of beauty, grace and spirit.

While the two fought as champions, they did not finish off the rest by themselves. The remaining guards had recognized their chance and moved to strike down the rebels while the duo danced. Within minutes the opposing force had been laid to waste, either captured or killed. Their devious leader was surrounded and peppered with arrows before she could grab either of the hostages. While none of the hits were fatal, they prompted a speedy retreat.

The tension in the ballroom had given way to an exhausted calm, and order seemed to be returning as Felosial had risen back to her feet and joined the wizard and the rogue standing in the center of the room.

The healer was overwhelmed in her gratitude and threw her arms around each of her protectors in a tight hug. Meira was shocked to be on the receiving end of the first embrace and almost forgot to have a negative reaction when Malark had the same treatment. As the rogue turned to say something to the blonde another movement out of the corner of her eye caught Meira's attention.

Without thought Meira moved, intercepting the path of her sister. The assassin had waited calmly, disappearing in the chaos for the opportune moment to end her target. But Meira was just as fast, if not faster than the quickest blades. With one enchanted dagger, she parried the thrusting blade and caught her sister in a wrist lock. But the Fay'ai training served her sister well, as she turned with the momentum of her charge, releasing her intended blade and disarming Meira of her enchanted dagger at the same time.

The blue haired assassin grasped the enchanted dagger out of the air, pivoted and struck down towards the spot where the Lady Felosial once stood. Instead the dagger found the arm of her protector, as the wizard had pulled her out of harm's way and placed his body in between the two warring sisters and his charge. The dagger sliced deep, and Malark cried out in pain.


	11. Blood on Marble

Meira's gave in to her training; as soon as she heard the scream of her lover, she surrendered to Vesi. Vesi grabbed the assassin's blade as it fell. Vesi struck with the same speed as her opponent and impaled the attacker deep within the shoulder of the blade arm. Then Meira was back, and she was crying.

The blue haired assassin fell to her knees, the pain was clear in her features, though she managed to avoid a scream. The enchanted dagger she had used to bloody Malark slid across the floor out of harm's way. Her fingers twitched in that direction, but the arm seemed to be losing all sensation and the wound seemed to be acting strangely.

Meira was beside herself, collapsed on her knees on the dance floor, her features etched with confusion. "What's going on? I don't understand!" Meira struck at her sister with loose ineffective and emotional blows with an open hand alongside her shoulder. "Tell me what happened! You were supposed to be safe."

The assassin on the floor seemed to chuckle morbidly and coughed in pain before responding bitterly "No one is safe from Father big sis, haven't you realized that yet?" Melinae turned on her back, clutching the shoulder of her injured arm. "What's the matter Vesi? I thought you were supposed to be the best, yet here you are crying on the job while people bleed."

"Don't call me that Melinae…. Just don't. At least tell me-" Meira's question was interrupted by a groan and she felt herself shoved aside by Felosial as the blonde raced for the wounded wizard.

"Don't move Malark, I'm here. Let me see the wound." Felosial worked desperate but quickly, and when Meira looked in her eyes she didn't see the scared elf from the battle before but a confident healer whose friend was put in the line of fire. Meira tried to summon the energy to hate herself for not checking on Malark sooner, but her training tossed that aside for a more practical use of her time. Instead she made sure that Melinae was unarmed and immobile, then bound her wound in a rudimentary fashion before watching over the healer to make sure that she wouldn't be interrupted.

Felosial's healing magic was already taking its effect. Malark was cut behind the shoulder and was laying on his stomach as the magic surged through his body, knitting muscles back together. He was facing the floor, with his left arm bleeding and being tended to, but his right seemed to be ignoring Felosial's instructions and reaching around him, searching for something. Meira took his hand with both of hers and reassured him with gentle words. As soon as Malark felt her touch and heard her voice he stilled and relaxed into Felosial's care.

Minutes passed, and the guards were starting to gather and search for survivors, clearing away some of the mess and checking in on the nobles that had escaped with Thamior. Both Felosial and Meira kept their concentration on an injured Malark until the rogue heard a deep moan of pain by her sister. Meira went to check on her cautiously only to find that the non-fatal blow that she had struck was not closing at all; when looking closer Meria could see the veins around Melinae's wound turn black as soot and she writhed on the floor in agony.

Meira immediately went to the blade she had tossed aside and picked it up. It was an assassin's blade, through and through; it was sharp and narrow, perfectly formed for a quick draw kill. The blade itself was coated with a sticky substance distinct from the blood. While it didn't have a distinct odor, Meira could tell that Melinae had coated her blade in some sort of poison before Meira had disarmed her and turned her weapon against her.

The eyes of both Fay'ai women met and the blue eyes saw the question in the violet ones without asking. "It's Garic root poison, my employer had wanted Felosial to die by the same thing that she had cured so spectacularly."

Except Meira knew instantly that her sister's death wouldn't be slow and gradual as the Lord's falling had been. Instead with a blade introducing this amount of poison to the blood stream, they had a matter of minutes, not days. Had Felosial received the blow, the healer would have writhed in pain with even a small cut, and the onlookers would have been staring uselessly, knowing the only one who could save her was herself.

But Felosial wasn't dying on the floor, instead she was focusing on saving the one who had been by her side for months. Without interrupting the flow of magic, Meira kneeled back by the two and pleaded with Felosial. "Please take care of this as fast as you can, you have another patient that can't wait. She's dying as we speak."

"What other patient?" Felosial's eyes widen as she turned her head gradually to face the rogue. "You can't seriously be asking me to save that monster? She tried to kill me! She stabbed Malark! I thought you cared about him."

Any other time, the words would have made Meira wince with guilt and pain, but there was no time for remorse. "I know all of that, but she's my sister and I can't just watch her die when you can save her."

Felosial broke the spell on Malark off for just long enough to check back on Melanie, she saw the black veins and the location of the wound, analyzing how long the blue eyed one would have before the garic poison hit her heart and killed her. Switching patient's wouldn't mean the trading of lives, but an incomplete healing for Malark could mean infection and potential loss of his left arm, and that wasn't something Felosial was willing to risk for her own would-be killer.

"Malark's healing takes priority, it will take ten more minutes and by that time….. I'm sorry but I-"

"You lassies look like you could use a hand!" Felosial's refusal of Meira was interrupted by a welcomed reedy voice as Thamior came to join the quartet on the floor. He jerked his head over to Malark and rubbed his hands together, pulling out his symbol of Ilmatar as he did. "My mate who seems to be napping so rudely over here sent me a quick mental mind note and said you might need a second pair of hands. Dunno what I can do for the lassie over there, but I figure I might as well finish the job on this nasty little cut."

As he spoke the words his hands began to glow and Thamior took up where Felosial left off. Though it was immediately obvious that his healing had not been as gentle and painless as the soft handed Felosial's had been. Malark groaned audibly into the floor and when Thamior responded with "Endure Laddie, just like Ilmatar teaches" Malark responded with a series of muted curses that were creative and impressively descriptive (but unfortunately muted by the marble floor).

Without waiting, Meira dragged Felosial back over to her sister, and looked her dead in the eyes. "I know you don't want to and I know you barely know me but…" Tears fell from violet eyes.

"Please, just….. Please. I'm begging you. I've already failed her once too many times."

Felosial was softened by this and despite her reservations and disdain for her new patient, she knew that this was her life's calling. Eldath was with her as the healer prepared to do battle with an enemy she had beaten once before. The healer's entire being glowed as she readied for use of her full capabilities, and Meira felt a calming presence settle over her that she had associated with the Goddess of Peace.

Eldath was kind to those who sought her, as many ignored her for her more boisterous brothers. She favored her servant Felosial who would heal not just a guard she favored but an enemy as well. As the goddess and the healer worked together to break the cycle of violence, many in the room turned to look at the light as the healing begun in the blue haired assassin.

While the initial output of power was substantial, the spread of the poison and the taint of the wound were strong opponents. It took a half of an hour of constant magic for the healer to make headway on them. Ten minutes in, Malark joined Meira by her side (after punching Thamior once with a mage hand for his rough treatment) and returned her earlier gesture by grabbing her hand with both of his and silently joining her Vigil. Thamior joined them behind Malark, cleaning up the wound and blood despite his patient's protests as they sat in silence and waited.

Eventually Eldath's presence faded and Felosial stood to pronounce that the first part of the treatment had been a success. She ordered the guards to bring a stretcher and carry the would-be assassin to the infirmary. While the elves were initially hesitant, their lady's word was law and they gathered up the materials to get the job done.

Felosial was not expecting a tight hug from the normally distant violet haired rogue. But she got one, and being exhausted herself, barely made out the whispered thanks spilling from Meira's lips. One of the guards looked as if he would intervene and chastise Meira for her gesture but happened to look into the eyes of Malark behind her and realized he might lose any hand that he touched the half-elf with (the guard was pretty sure he saw the wizard's eyes flash white for a second). Eventually Meira pulled away as the guards pulled up with a stretcher, loaded the patient on it with at least some care and then departed with Felosial in tow, dictating instructions along the way and gesturing for Meira to stay behind.

As Thamior finished patching up Malark, he followed Felosial and her patient as they were led out of the ballroom and towards the servant's quarters. Malark felt relief seep through his body as it seemed that all was well. He turned in the middle of the dance floor and found Meira standing in front of him, the remnants of tears in her eyes and gratitude on her lips.

Suddenly, a huddled figure in the corner shouted a desperate warning and Malark saw an injured Presmoira charging at magically enhanced speed towards the two of them. She had blades in hand and evil intentions but was moving too quick for normal means.

Malark called down the last of the lightning gathered above them and pulled Meira in close, her shock shown as he registered the figure advancing behind her just before the bolt struck down the center of the dance floor once again. Presmoira's speed got the best of her as she was unable to stop her charge before being fried in an overwhelming surge of lightning. After the dust cleared the only remnants of her last act were her blades, still crackling with static, pinned into cracks in the ground around them.

The wizard was exhausted as he looked first down at the woman he had protected and then around at the devastation that the night had created. Finally, Malark's eyes were drawn to the huddled figures in the corner and saw that one of the minstrels had been there during the final confrontation, perhaps even the whole battle. The man looked awestruck and inspired, and Malark had a sudden sinking realization that made him groan. Meira looked confused at the change and waited impatiently for an explanation.

"I know that look…. We're about to have our second song written…."

"Wait what? Did you say _song_? Why would anyone- Wait, did you say _second_!?

Rather than answering her insistent questions, Malark regained his composure and made a decision. "Well, if it's going to be written, it might as well have a good ending."

And Meira found herself pulled in by the waist and wrapping her hands around his neck as Malark dropped a heart stopping kiss on her lips.


	12. Heart to Heart

An hour of explanations and reports followed, but now Malark was moving through the hallways with purpose, searching for Meira. The wizard finally found her in one of the halls near the living quarters, pacing back and forth, clearly distressed. She had gotten away as Thamior had double checked his wound and Liosin had bombarded him with questions. Luckily the elven Lord had retired to his private rooms elsewhere or Malark was sure he and his retinue would have questioned him for hours.

When Meira caught sight of Malark, she didn't stop pacing, she just kept going and glancing his way as he got closer. When he was close enough, she turned and backhanded him across the chest without any real force. "You kissed me!"

Whatever Malark had expected her to be freaking out about (possibilities included her sister, rebellions around them, Malark's rampage) that surely wasn't it. His eyebrows immediately raised, and his response was slow and confused. "Yes….. I did. And you kissed me back."

"Of course I kissed you back! All I've wanted to do since I've gotten here was kiss you back." The confession may have slipped out without her permission but Meira continued. "But I'm not the one with a damn blonde celebrity perfect girlfriend, now am I?"

More stunned silence followed and Meira's chest was heaving but she had finally stopped pacing. Meira looked into his eyes as they went through a variety of confused expressions until he seemed to realize what she meant. Then Malark seemed to be thoughtful as he remembered past interactions and she could almost see the flashbacks in his eyes; though she was impatient for him to actually say something.

When their eyes locked again he took a deep breath, "Ok, so that's what this is about. That makes sense." He paused again and made sure to take ahold of Meira's hand.

"Felosial and I aren't together. We never were. Nothing romantic has happened between us, nothing sexual has happened between us. We are both very different people. I could never pursue someone that thought of my mother or my birthright as inferior." Meira had a quick flash of getting the same initial reaction from Felosial. "It's not her fault that she was raised that way, and she's changing very quickly, but any physical attraction I had for her was killed by her initial prejudices."

"She's getting much better, and I think she's going to make someone very happy one day if she decides to marry. But that person will absolutely not be me." Malark was smiling now as he looked at Meira, "Besides, I was way too hung up on the last woman who I met. You may have heard of her; purple hair, captivating eyes, tongue as quick as a blade. Sound familiar?"

In Meira's mind she was taken back to when she first met Malark, the way he stood up for her and admired her strength. She was taken back to their next playful encounter when he tracked her down and asked her for information. She remembered toying with him, implying he was only there to catch her for a quick roll in the hay (something she was actually considering a the time). Meira thought back to when she scouted him to see if he would be a useful ally and found herself wanting more than professionalism from the wizard.

Her thighs rubbed together as she pictured all the times she would tease him, and each time he would have that same look in his eye. Meira thought about all the times he had her back, first at the harbor and then tonight. Whenever possible the wizard put himself between her and danger without making her feel like a helpless damsel. Meira got lost in thought when her mind drew her back to when she was able to just be herself in his room, and she blushed a deep red as she imagined the intensity of their night together.

Meira was convinced. She knew Malark and despite their time together being brief, she knew what he would do for her. She was looking into his eyes and reading no deception, no persuasion, just honesty; still, Meira's stubbornness needed answers. "Fine, but what was with the 'inappropriate conduct' you and her retinue fought over."

Malark's disdain for her retainers was written all over her face when she brought them up. "Those fools wanted to treat her like some object, I wanted to hug my new friend when she got off Emerald after her first riding lesson. We quarreled. They were weak, small minded morons who were convinced my half-blood hands would taint her." Malark's smirk was a bit vicious as he remembered. "They learned that these hands were for casting spells, and I shot a few of them at the idiots who thought they could threaten my life."

Meira smirked at that mental picture, thinking of the fops from the party that looked at her either as dirt or a piece of meat. "Good, I hope you froze off some important parts." Malark barked out a laugh and Meira's smirk widened before falling off as she got serious. "I meant what I said before the ball. When I left, I left to handle this. I haven't even thanked you for everything you did for me tonight and to be frank I'm not sure how I will."

Malark looked like he was about to speak but she shushed him with a finger as her confessions rolled out. "I'm not sure what my next priority will be, and I know there are still some jobs I need to take on. For myself and my family, I need to occasionally work alone" Meira took both of his hands now and a small hopeful smile came to her face "But I came back to you once. And it was the best decision I made in months. I'd like to keep coming back to you….. if you'd welcome me back with open arms."

"Yes." Malark said simply then laughed. "I know you're probably expecting some sort of speech or maybe me taking some time to think but that's bullshit, it's a yes. It's going to be a yes. I'm head over heels here and it would kill me to say something other than yes." Meira was flushed and blushing and moving closer. "I'm not going to be perfect, and I still have some work to do, and as far as I know you've never spent any time on the ocean… and those are all things we have to talk about… but yes."

Meira knew talking was a thing that couples are supposed to do sooner rather than later. Meira had a long list of actual discussions she wanted to have with Malark. Meira had a whole book of personal questions she was curious about. But that was going to have to wait. She occupied her mouth in other ways as she leaned forward and kissed him soundly.

They took their time with the kiss, it was languid and unhurried, as they finally were able to relax. They stood closely for a while despite standing in a random semi-public hallway. When Meira finally pulled back, she had a playful glint in her eyes that Malark was enjoying tremendously. She put on a comically fake pout and reached for his arms with both hands.

"So, when you were hugging Felosial, you just kept it friendly right?" Meira had moved his hands to the mid part of her back, very appropriate and friendly. "You never moved this hand up to play with her hair." Meira nudged his arm upwards till he got the hint and indulged in one of her favorite gestures of affection."

"I mean I may have brushed it out of her face but…" Malark quickly caught the 'don't fuck with this game I'm playing' eyebrow raise that Meira sent him. "No, I never played with her _blonde_ hair."

Meira rolled her eyes a little bit at his teasing but continued. "And this other hand stayed on her back right? It never went….. lower?" His other hand gradually followed her teasing until she reached back and guided it down over the backside of her torn gown. His hand followed a path dipping down her legs and thighs, teasing his fingers along the material of her garter. Malark then slid his hand up and under the ripped fabric to grab a handful of soft skin and pull her close, getting to hear that little gasp that he enjoyed so much.

The smirk on Meira's face had moved from playful to wicked and tempting. "So…?"

Malark's eyes shone with the same look he had given her the first time he had seen Meira that night.

"So….."


	13. Epilogue

Felosial had been knocking on the door to Malark's room for thirty seconds with no response. Given the events of that night, she was starting to worry that there might have been some altercation she wasn't there for. She had considered checking other places but was assured by the staff and Thamior (who was smirking for some reason) that she could find him in his quarters.

Eventually her panic ceased as she heard footsteps coming towards the door, and she started to smile. Despite how the night had turned out, she was incredibly grateful for Malark and his friends. Even though the new one had seemed a bit… prickly at first.

As the door opened, Felosial was about to launch herself into yet another hug, but she was stopped short by an unexpected sight. Malark typically did not answer the door clad only in a loosely bound robe, completely disheveled, and looking somewhat annoyed.

Though the annoyance seemed to mostly leave Malark's eyes as he saw it was Felosial, his greeting seemed unusually brusque. "Evening Fel, did you need something?"

Like the startled doe Thamior had mentioned earlier, Felosial was a bit stuck in her tracks, she knew something was clearly going on but couldn't seem to find the right answer, she may also have been raking her eyes up and down the sides of the wizard she hadn't seen before. Curiosity is a hard thing to quell but rather than ask the obvious, she merely replied. "I just came here to check on you and to let you know that the um, the assas…. Our dangerous guest seems to be recovering nicely." Malark seemed to sigh with relief.

"I meant to tell Syleth but she didn't answer at her quarters. She also wasn't sitting with her…sister. I'm actually a bit worried about her to tell the truth. I don't suppose you've seen her at all?" Felosial's genuine concern brought a slight blush to Malark's face.

The aforementioned rogue slid into view in front of Felosial's eyes, and those eyes widened to the size of saucers. Meira stood in front of the door wearing one of Malark's discarded tunics and nothing else Felosial could see. Though the rogue placed herself between the healer and the wizard she seemed to be amused more than anything else and smirked evilly as both of them grew more and more red.

"Thank you for your concern and the news but I don't want you to worry. I'm doing…." The smirk was turned up at Malark's face as she indulged in just a bit of possessiveness by placing her body against his and her hand on his face "Fantastic!"

Felosial opened her mouth and seemed to be about to speak before closing it again. Her second attempt was accompanied by a slight high-pitched sound but didn't seem to formulate any words. The healer's face was completely pink and the blush reached all the way down her body. After a few more seconds where Meira admittedly enjoyed her former rival's embarrassment before pushing the end of the conversation. "Well Fel, I'm very grateful for you to come by and update us. We'll be sure to check in first thing in the morning. But unfortunately, we have important business to take care of."

As the words came out of her mouth, Meira was pressing her body completely against Malark and backing him gradually into the room and reaching back to grab ahold of the tie in front of his robe. "Sleep well" Meira said as she closed the door in Felosial's face before dragging the wizard back towards the bed and getting rid of the robe.

In the morning, Meira and Malark walked into the castle infirmary with a lack of sleep and big smiles on their faces. As she saw them enter Felosial stood stock still and blushed from her head to her toes once again while giving an update on Meira's sister's recovery. Thamior managed to witness the scene and would not stop laughing. As her sister was not yet conscious, Meira elected to stay with her quietly while Malark went to handle some of the transition with the guards and check up on the Order of the Gauntlet after the conflict.

The next days passed with unusual quiet as Felosial and her retinue planned a return trip to her homeland. The only major change was that Meira had revealed her name to Thamior, Liosin and Felosial (each time with Malark there supporting her) and they brushed past it quickly enough. There was a minor change of Meira moving her things into Malark's room and giving up pretense altogether. The reaction to that revelation was a complete lack of surprise. Though the wizard and the rogue delayed amking a firm plan, they both knew that each had significant adversaries that held too much control over their lives. They had the makings of a great quest and seemed to be on the same page that this would be best accomplished together.

It took a few days for Melinae to recover consciousness, and even when she awoke she wouldn't talk to Meira immediately. It took constant prodding and one-sided conversation before Melinae would start to respond. Some of their conversations were civil and others ended with Meira leaving the infirmary to avoid harsh words. She always came back though, and eventually Meira worked up the courage to ask the one question she needed an answer to.

"What happened to the first Sheraesia? I need to know."

Perhaps the look that Melinae sent her was supposed to be derision, but the exhaustion from the healing overtook that. "You know what happened to her, Vesi. She was your first target, your first botch. Who do you think Father tasked with cleaning up your mess?" Meira blanched white and shivered at the realization. "Only when I took care of things, I did it with Father's knife waiting in case he had to get rid of a second Problem Child."

Silence greeted that revelation, and Meira's hatred for her father warred with the loss of those she had tried to save. Both a friend and a sister were seemingly lost to her. That night Malark held her as she cried, muttering soft assurances and running his hand through her hair.

As had been mentioned when Malark had received the quest from Governor Nighthill, Felosial's retinue expected Malark to escort her back and finish his assignment, though he was considering turning it down to set out with Meira. On the other hand, Malark didn't want to brush off the chance to cement a useful alliance and earn prestige for the order and didn't want to leave Felosial alone with the jackals of politics just yet. Felosial could also ensure that Meira could join the party upon their return and now that the healer could look the rogue in the eye without blushing, they found themselves talking more and developing the shallow makings of an actual friendship.

One thing only was clear, neither Malark nor Meira wanted another uncertain separation.

Five days after the ball, things were progressing as normally until a messenger from the Lord of Frostshear encountered Malark in the library just before midday. The messenger was there to send formal greetings to Malark, as well as pass along a scroll sealed with the Lord's stamp. Alone once again, the wizard cracked the scroll and read what was written only for his eyes to widen in shock at its contents.

Malark immediately left the library and went to find Meira, who at this point was typically heading back to her sister's room to bring her a meal. Instead, he found his lover standing outside the infirmary arguing loudly with two baffled guards.

"She was just hear two hours ago, she couldn't have gotten far. Tell Liosin I want her found as soon as possible."

In a jumble of confusion and a mix of reports, Malark gathered that Melinae had slipped her bonds and escaped out of an infirmary window while Meira had taken her midday meal. There was no note, and the only remaining sign of her presence was a deliberately cut piece of glowing blue hair. It was a message for Meira and while Malark didn't want to pry, he noticed that Meira held onto the lock as if it was precious to her. The contents of the scroll didn't come up that night.

When Malark awoke, he found that Meira's travel pack was already sitting by the door, but Meira seemed to be waiting to talk to him directly so as not to cause a repeat of their last parting. Instead of saying anything, she just kissed her lover over and over, and muttered sweet nothings and whispering how she didn't want to leave, until her carefully planned early departure turned into an unexpected and intense session of goodbye love-making.

As Meira retrieved her scattered travel clothes, Malark already knew what she was going to say and didn't make her say it. "I know you have to go, I know she needs to be tracked down. I know that I would only slow you down and I'd be much better off cementing the alliance with the elves. But…."

Meira stopped her movement and went back to the bed. They held hands together and looked into each other's eyes as Meira made him a promise. "It won't be like last time, not again. Alright?"

Malark smiled and felt reassured "This time is definitely different." He gave her another lingering kiss. "Now go save your sister."

A half hour later Malark watched from a portcullis window as Meira's horse sped out of the keep's stable and towards the open road. He was grateful for Thamior who put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and supported him.

"Well lad, that's one more adventure in the bag. What's next?"

Malark's hands tightened around Frostshear's scroll before tucking it away in his robe and reaching up to pull the ring around his neck over his head. The wizard held the ring above his head, watching as the morning sun traced over the triple lightning bolt marking. Determination etched his face.

"Next I end a plague on this land. The Lords of the Tempest will fall!"


End file.
